


Or Not

by velvetglove



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Collars, Consensual Kink, First Kiss, First Time, Large Cock, M/M, NATIONAL CAT DAY MOTHERFUCKERS, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Rimming, Worlds, accidentally kinky, barcelona, cat prints, cockblocked by a dog, nightclubbing, oversharing with Mila, symbolic jewelry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 38,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetglove/pseuds/velvetglove
Summary: What it's like when the coolest person in the world thinks you're cool too. Firsts and onlys. Yuri letting himself be soft with Beka. Some of the most important days (and nights) of Yuri's life.Chapter 1: 18, 20Chapter 2: 21, 23





	1. 18, 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following some sex dreams and an almost-kiss from the wrong guy, Yuri realizes he's in love but doesn't know what he's supposed to do next. It's up to Beka to show him.

By the time he was about to turn 18, Yuri Plisetsky had achieved great things professionally. He’d been Grand Prix Champion, World Champion, and had stood proudly on an Olympic podium. He’d managed to do a quad axel in practice, with a rink full of witnesses. He’d traveled the world doing ice shows and was met with crowds of adoring fans everywhere he went. People recognized him on the streets of St. Petersburg, of Paris, of Tokyo, and he liked being famous. He was doing what he loved, he was fucking amazing at it, and the whole world took every opportunity to tell him he was great.

So why was he lying awake agonizing about stupid shit like kissing?

He’d never been kissed. It was dumb to complain about that because he could be kissed anytime he wanted. He could just pick out a girl from the Yuri’s Angels crowd at the next competition and kiss her, problem solved. But despite there being pretty much every imaginable kind of girl in his fanclub, somehow there was never one that did anything for him.

Maybe he shouldn’t worry about what he wanted and just go for a girl who met other guys’ criteria. He would find a girl with big tits for sure, because guys liked big tits, and he was a guy, therefore he’d like them if he had them in his hands. Honestly though, it was hard to work up much enthusiasm for a couple lumps of fat.

He was a late bloomer. Like, really late. It was embarrassing. But when his hormones finally did kick in, he was confident he’d be a total beast, fucking all the willing pussy in St. Petersburg and the world beyond. No skate groupie would be safe. Of course, he’d be all about consent, and he’d use condoms, but he'd be a fucking menace, tearing all that slutty skate pussy up.

The other reason he was lying awake was his fucked-up dreams. Lately he’d been having dreams about himself and his friend—his _best_ friend—Beka in weird scenarios. Like, they were hibernating in a cave, and they woke up naked and hungry, and Beka looked like he always did in locker rooms, perfect and golden and manly, but Yuri had a pussy, hot and slick and aching to be filled, and he spread his legs and begged Beka to fuck him. It was so, so wrong. Beka was hard, Beka was going to do it, but then Yuri woke up just as Beka was about to push inside him. He’d lain there with a hard-on, feeling guilty as fuck for dragging Dream Beka into his perversity. He was also creeped out. Nothing against women, but Yuri didn’t want a pussy.

There’d been a bunch of dreams like that. It made it kind of tough to look Beka in the eye when they skyped. He was going to have to somehow purge himself of these fucked-up thoughts before the next time he’d see Beka in person, which would be at Worlds in a few weeks. He was seriously worried he’d hug Beka hello and get a fucking hard-on.

Beka was his bro, his skate bud, his favorite competitor, his best friend. Beka was the most interesting person Yuri knew. He was an amazing DJ and he'd been making kickass mixes especially for Yuri since Barcelona. He was a badass who could ride any motorcycle and he'd told Yuri he was his favorite passenger. Beka was even more famous (in Kazakhstan) than Yuri. Beka was the handsomest guy and the coolest person Yuri had ever met, and he was continually amazed that Beka apparently thought he was cool too. Beka could never know about these messed-up thoughts Yuri was having. He could never know about the dreams.

~o0o~

For his 18th birthday, to celebrate his full adulthood, Yuri was going to a nightclub with everyone from the Sports Champions Club rink as well as some friends of Mila’s, a bunch of theater and dance people who were kind of show-offy, but their brand of extra would probably make it more fun.

Victor and Katsudon were coming by to get him in less than an hour. Yuri had dressed for his first official nightclub outing with calculated care, not wanting to look like he was trying too hard. He braided back the sides of his long hair to keep it out of his face as he did every day at the rink. He wore tight leopard-print jeans and an old black t-shirt with the sleeves cut out. He looked at himself in the mirror and was disappointed he didn’t look more adult, more manly. Of course, he was still just 163 cm tall, the size of a child, and he only shaved once a week, whether he needed it or not.

While he was dressing and performing his self-evaluation, he received a ton of texts, his phone pinging and pinging. Everyone was reminding him to bring his ID, all of them just as aware as he was that he didn’t look old enough to buy drinks.

There was still no message from Beka.

He’d tried to call Beka three times earlier in the day and sent him too many texts, but Beka never replied. Yuri was trying to be tough about it, trying to be cool, but he was hurt that Beka had blown him off on this of all days. Really, Beka was the only person he’d cared about talking to today.

At least this nightclub party would distract him from Beka’s indifference.

He took a photo of himself in the mirror, his disaster area bedroom making a nice dystopian backdrop for his club outfit, and posted it to Instagram _#happybday2me #thisiswhatanadultlookslike #manlyaf #icetiger_

Dressed and documented, he plopped down on the edge of his bed to wait for Victor’s text letting him know their cab was downstairs. His cat jumped onto his lap and he petted her and scratched behind her ears as he cooed ridiculous endearments and pet names. _Murder Fluff. Queen Tuna Breath. OG Ice Tiger._ She lay on her back attacking his hand, biting his thumb and kicking at his wrist with her hind feet, her eyes crazy. When she started getting serious about killing his hand, he managed to take it back with minimal bloodshed and went to clean the litterbox while he waited for the text.

~o0o~

_Welcome to adulthood!_

Everyone was vying to buy Yuri drinks, making him promise to let them pay for his next, or the one after that. Yuri was drinking whiskey, fairly certain this was the ultimate manly drink, and he was on his second glass. It was okay, more tolerable the more he drank. It would get him fucked up, and that was what was important.

It was Friday, so the club was packed, lots of happy, hungry, unfamiliar faces. Victor and Katsudon were supposed to be watching out for him this evening, but they were already drunk and making a spectacle of themselves on the dancefloor. Whatever. Yuri didn’t need looking after.

After Yuri finished that second drink, he was woozy, but not so drunk he couldn’t show off his hip hop moves. He challenged Katsudon to a dance battle and they faced off surrounded by friends and acquaintances cheering them on. Katsudon was a fucking amazing dancer, like objectively better than Yuri would ever be. Yuri was declared the winner, which was total bullshit, but he was okay with being awarded the victory because it was his birthday.

Someone put a whiskey in his hand and he gulped it down.

It was sometime after the third whiskey that he stood on a table and yelled _IT’S NATIONAL CAT DAY, MOTHERFUCKERS!_ because it was important that they observe the holiday, and everyone in the club cheered.

He danced with so many people, grinding like a girl in a rap video. At one point, he was sandwiched between hard-partying girls, his face mashed into breasts, and he felt nothing but uncomfortable, so obviously none of these girls was the right one. For awhile, he was monopolized by one of Mila’s theater friends, a guy who was tall, dark, handsome and a little intense. Yuri liked the attention and slithered all over the guy like he was a pole, writhing around to a song with filthy lyrics.

He lost track of what was happening for awhile, everything reduced to hectic lights and noise, but fell into sync again as he crowded into the women’s bathroom with a gaggle of Mila’s laughing, cackling girlfriends. Here, where the light was bright and steady and there were mirrors, someone named Sveta put black eyeliner around Yuri’s eyes. He looked fucking fantastic. He should be wearing eyeliner every day. If he saw a girl he wanted to kiss tonight, she’d be his, no doubt about it.

Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome was lurking outside the women’s bathroom. He looked Yuri over and smiled.

“You look good in eyeliner.” The guy stood very close, leaning down, his breath hot on Yuri’s ear.

“Thanks.” Yuri shifted a few inches away, needing a little more personal space.

“I’m Vadim.” The dude offered his hand.

“Yuri.” Yuri took it and shook. Boldly, he looked Vadim in the eyes. “Do you wanna buy me a drink?”

Vadim did, and Yuri drank his fourth whiskey leaning against a wall at Vadim’s side, paying little attention to what Vadim said to him.

“Mila says you’re famous,” Vadim said, “but I’ve never heard of you.”

Yuri shrugged. “Look me up. I’m a big fucking deal.”

Vadim asked him to spell Plisetsky and poked at his phone.

“Whoa.” Vadim looked him over once again, very appreciative.

“What?”

“Look at you.” He turned his phone so Yuri could see the screen. There he was doing a Biellmann spiral, his ass and dick on blatant display. That costume had shown everything; it had been an embarrassing mistake.

“You’re really fucking flexible.” Vadim was impressed and admiring. “I bet you can put your feet behind your head.”

Yuri shrugged. “Probably.” He drank in generous mouthfuls, not quite gulping his whiskey. It seemed likely he could get Vadim to buy him another drink.

“You really are something special,” Vadim said. “I mean, look at that ass.” He pointed at the screen. “Is it just as good in person?”

Yuri snorted, disdainful and amused. “Look and see, asshole.”

Vadim put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder and turned him around. He stroked Yuri’s back and was very vocal in admiring Yuri’s ass, making appreciative sounds with his hand on Yuri’s hip. Yuri hadn’t thought Vadim would actually touch his ass, but then he did, cupping and squeezing, and Yuri was shocked and offended and excited all at once.

“Knock it off,” Yuri said, attempting a vicious donkey kick but instead staggering sideways. He leaned with his back—and ass—to the wall.

“That’s fucking amazing,” Vadim said, excited and dazzled. “I bet you could snap a guy’s dick off with that ass.”

Yuri burst out laughing.

Vadim laughed too. “I tell you what—I’d let you try!”

Yuri laughed again and shook his head.

Mila appeared from out of the crowd on the dancefloor. She looked concerned and shot a sharp glare at Vadim.

“Yuri, are you having fun? Do you want to dance? I don’t want you to get too drunk.”

Yuri scowled at her, eyes narrowed. He was compelled to be contrary. “I’m not too drunk. I don’t want to dance. I’m fine right here. I’m making friends.” He nudged Vadim, elbow connecting with Vadim’s side.

Mila frowned, reserving her sternest expression for Vadim. “Okay. But really, don’t get too drunk. We have a surprise for you later.”

“What kind of surprise?” Yuri wasn’t that interested. Birthday surprises were for little kids.

“One you don’t want to be too drunk for.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You can go now, right?”

Mila sighed. “Right.”

Yuri ignored her, eyes closed, and when he opened them again she was gone. He realized he was leaning against Vadim and stood up straight in a hurry.

“It’s okay if you want to lean on me,” Vadim said. “Better yet, come with me.”

First Vadim took Yuri to the bar and got him another whiskey. Then he took Yuri’s hand and led him around the perimeter of the dancefloor to a lounge area filled with couches and chairs. Vadim found an empty chair and plopped down in it, pulling Yuri down onto his lap. Yuri let out a surprised yelp, very uncool. He tried to stand up, but Vadim had hold of his hips.

“Let me go, asshole!” It was harder to get away than he’d have anticipated. He felt like his skating muscles ought to be giving him more of an advantage here.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Vadim stroked Yuri’s back in long, soothing strokes. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want. We can just relax awhile, okay?”

The touching felt good. Yuri decided it would be okay to stay on Vadim’s lap until he was through with his drink.

“I didn’t realize figure skating guys were so hot,” Vadim said, still petting Yuri’s back and now the upper curve of his ass. “I thought that Victor guy was old because of the hair, but he’s hot as hell. His boyfriend’s pretty hot too, and then of course there’s you.”

“There are other figure skaters here.” Yuri pointed. “Georgi. Those two guys dancing beside him.” He was already bored of pointing and waved his hand to indicate the whole club. “Some other guys.”

“You’re the hottest though,” Vadim claimed. “There’s nothing hotter than a little blond twink.”

Yuri wrinkled his nose with displeasure. “I’m not a twink.” He was a stud who was going to tear through all the St. Petersburg pussy just as soon as he was in the mood.

Vadim laughed. “Well, you’re not a fucking bear. Short, tight, hairless, pretty face. You’re a twink.”

Yuri frowned and insisted, “I’m not hairless.” He was though, basically.

“Prove it,” Vadim said, grinning at Yuri and holding his gaze.

How would he…?

Vadim slipped his hand beneath Yuri’s t-shirt and slid it up from his belly to his collarbones, making leisurely wide sweeps across his chest along the way. Yuri sat still, stunned and overwhelmed with weird feelings as Vadim groped him. His little nipples hardened as Vadim brushed over them and it was as if they were connected directly to his cock, electric shivers making him hard. He shifted on Vadim’s lap, his tight jeans suddenly uncomfortable.

“You’re a liar,” Vadim said, but fondly. “You have like three chest hairs. Face it, twink: you’re a twink.”

Yuri laughed and shook his head. He wasn’t a twink because that was a gay thing and he wasn’t gay. He wasn’t interested in girls yet, but he wasn’t interested in guys either.

Yuri suddenly recalled being unable to look away from Beka standing naked in the locker room at the Grand Prix Final, Beka’s beautiful hard body beaded with water after his shower, Beka’s skin flushed from the heat. Yuri thought about all of his weird dreams.

But that was wrong. Beka was his friend. His _best_ friend.

Victor and Katsudon were best friends too. Just saying.

While he was thinking hard about friendship, Vadim pulled him down to lean against his chest, and it actually did feel very nice. Vadim was warm and smelled a little too strongly of some manly cologne. Vadim now had a hand up the back of Yuri’s shirt, fingers spread across his ribs.

“Quit groping me, asshole.” Yuri made a token effort to get away, a half-hearted wriggle, but he kind of wanted Vadim to touch his nipples again. He could think about Beka in the locker room while Vadim did it, and no one would have to know.

Vadim had his hand on Yuri’s knee, then his thigh, then just glancing past his balls, making Yuri gasp in shock. He touched Yuri’s belly through his t-shirt and skimmed over his nipples, sending urgent signals to Yuri’s dick. He slipped his hand around the back of Yuri’s neck and began to pull him close, and Yuri was horrified to realize Vadim was about to kiss him.

“No!” Yuri put his hands flat against Vadim’s chest and pushed, making space between their bodies.

“Why not?” Vadim blinked, uncomprehending.

_Because I’ve never been kissed before and I don’t want the first time to be with a stranger._

“Because,” Yuri snarled. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Ah, come on. I’m a good kisser. Everyone says so.”

That Vadim had kissed “everyone” was actually pretty unappealing.

Yuri realized that he was maybe mentally slut-shaming Vadim for kissing too many people and he was disappointed because he’d thought he was way more chill than that about sex. But he wanted his first kiss to be special and he thought people should be choosy about who they kissed. He was way more conventional than he’d realized.

He didn’t want to be conventional.

“Maybe…” Yuri said. It was just a fucking kiss, after all.

He put his arms around Vadim’s neck and Vadim grinned.

“We can have a good time,” he promised.

Yuri’s eyes were falling closed and he was leaning in when he was interrupted.

“Yura?”

He recognized the voice but didn’t understand how he was hearing it in this nightclub. He put a hand on Vadim’s face and pushed him away as he turned to see who was using Beka’s voice to fuck with him.

It was Beka.

Beka, looking exhausted. Beka, looking…hurt? But then Beka smiled at him, one of the smiles he only gave Yuri.

Yuri wanted to go to him and tried to stand, but Vadim kept stubborn hold of his hips and they struggled. In two strides, Beka was standing before the chair, a reassuring hand on Yuri’s shoulder, a glare like knives focused on Vadim.

“Let him go.” Here was scary Beka being a badass on Yuri’s behalf, and it was thrilling.

“He’s having fun with me,” Vadim claimed, holding onto Yuri’s beltloops. "Who're you?"

“He’s had enough fun.” Beka radiated menace.

“What are you, his dad?” Vadim jeered. “He can stay with me if he wants.” But he let go of Yuri.

Beka was low-key furious, and seeing him pissed off like this made Yuri flustered and hot.

Beka's eyes were narrowed as he growled, “Don’t. Fuck. With. Me. I’m here now. He doesn’t need you.” Beka rubbed Yuri’s shoulder, his voice gentle as he said, “Come on, Yura. Let me take you home.”

The idea of going home with Beka gave Yuri a giddy thrill. He tried to stand again, but this time was hampered by his drunken unsteadiness. Beka helped him with a hand under his arm and drew him to his feet.

Yuri turned and clung, pressing his face against the front of Beka’s t-shirt and breathing in. Beka smelled better than anyone. Warm honey-musk and soap.

Vadim got up from the chair and inched around them. “He didn’t say he had a boyfriend,” he complained, sounding both defensive and apologetic.

No one bothered to correct him.

Yuri was dimly aware all his nosy friends had watched the whole Beka surprise, and were still watching now, so he used both hands to flip everyone off behind Beka's back.

Beka bent and said, “Happy Birthday,” in Yuri’s ear, his hot breath sending shivers throughout Yuri’s body.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said. Suddenly he felt weepy, so glad to touch Beka, so sorry he’d almost kissed some stranger, and so sorry he’d done it in front of Beka.

But why would Beka care?

“It’s okay,” Beka said. “I’m just glad to see you.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He was holding onto Beka because he wanted to, but also because he wasn’t sure he could stand without clinging to Beka’s leather jacket.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Beka tightened his hold around Yuri’s back, keeping him on his feet. He laughed and said, “Maybe that was a mistake.”

Yuri started to laugh too: rueful, regretful, sobbing laughter. He wanted a do-over, another reunion scene where he wasn’t sitting on some rando’s lap with a hard-on.

“I was surprised.” He nuzzled Beka’s shirtfront. He smelled so fucking perfect. “I drank too much. I’m really fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Come on. Let’s get your things and go.” Beka slipped his arm around Yuri’s back and gave him a reassuring squeeze as he steered him toward the door. “Do you think you can walk?”

In the back of a cab heading for Lilia’s apartment, Beka wanted to hold Yuri’s hand and Yuri was thrilled. Every time he looked at their joined hands, he blushed a little hotter. He was dimly aware his hand was kind of sweaty, but he was too drunk to care too much about it.

“I feel bad,” Beka said.

“About what?” Yuri definitely didn’t want Beka to feel bad.

“I didn’t even ask you what you wanted. If you’d been sober, I promise I wouldn’t have gotten in your way. If you wanted to go to bed with that guy—”

Yuri recoiled and gave a dramatic shudder. “Ugh, baka, no! I didn’t want him. I want—” He shut his mouth in a hurry, unwilling to finish his sentence.

“What?” Beka asked. “What do you want?”

Yuri couldn’t say it. It was a new idea and he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t meet Beka’s eyes. “Never mind. Not him.”

At Lilia’s building, Beka helped him climb the stairs he climbed by himself every day, but right now it was way too hard for one person to do alone. Exhausted and confused, he sat down and had an unplanned rest, stretched out on the tiles of the third-floor landing. Beka frowned down at him, gave him a hand up, and said _Get on my back_. Yuri rode the rest of the way up.

Beka propped Yuri up against the wall outside Lilia’s door and fished Yuri’s keys out of his pocket.

“Let’s be quiet, okay, Yura?” Beka made eye contact, gave Yuri a little shake for emphasis. “We don’t want to wake Yakov and Lilia.”

No, they didn’t want to do that.

“I can be quiet,” Yuri claimed, though he forgot to use his indoor voice when he said it.

“Okay, do the opposite of what you just did,” Beka said, turning the key in the lock. “Here, put your arm around me.”

Beka helped him navigate the apartment. Beka was quiet as a ninja, but Yuri couldn’t stop laughing. Giggling, really, like a fucking sissy. But that was funny too. Beka got him inside his room and set him down on his bed. His cat jumped in his lap and he petted her without finesse, swaying in his seat. Beka knelt at his feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking your shoes off.”

“Oh.”

Yuri felt Beka remove his left shoe and start to work on the right. Beka was a good friend and he was so beautiful naked. Yuri loved looking at him naked, but it would be even better to touch him. Would Beka like having his nipples touched as much as Yuri did? Yuri stopped petting the cat and instead ran his fingers through Beka’s hair. Beka went still, then reached up and stopped his hand.

“Not now, Yura.”

With a groan, Yuri flopped back on the bed, arms stretched overhead, and felt Beka pull his right shoe from his foot.

“Can you sleep in your clothes?” Beka asked, voice low.

“What?” He didn’t want to sleep at all, not now that Beka was here. He was just going to rest a moment.

“I’ll be right back.”

Beka left him alone and he stared at the ceiling with his heart pounding. He kept thinking of his dreams. The best/worst one had been of him and Beka wrestling naked on the ice, a game that turned serious. Beka flipped him on his belly and held him down with his weight, hot skin to hot skin. Beka got in between Yuri’s legs (Yuri spread them wide, shamefully eager in defeat) and fucked him, his dick just sliding right in. Yuri was freezing all down his front but burning up along his back and deep inside, at the very center of his body where only Beka could touch him.

He was not going to tell Beka about his messed-up dirty dreams.

Beka came back with a glass of water and made Yuri drink it while he watched. Then he got another one and made Yuri drink that too. He filled the glass a third time and set it on the nightstand, then stood looking down at Yuri as if he couldn’t believe this mess of a person was someone he cared about.

Yuri was so grateful to have Beka in his life. He would get emotional about it if he wasn’t careful. He reached for Beka’s hand with both of his own. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

He brought Beka’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it with heartfelt ardor, lingering with his lips against Beka’s skin. Then he turned Beka’s hand over and kissed the thin skin of his blue-veined wrist, a press of his lips followed by an open-mouthed slip of tongue. He heard Beka make a strange sound, a gasp into a groan.

Yuri kissed the heel of Beka’s hand as he opened Beka’s curled fingers. He nuzzled his way into the cup of Beka’s palm and pressed a lush kiss there, wet and slick with an eager tongue. He licked, tasting salt. Beka shuddered and pulled his hand away.

Yuri whimpered in dismay and grabbed after it.

“Yura…” Beka shook his head. “No. Not when you’re drunk.”

Even as he was feeling the depth of his disappointment, Yuri was wondering if that meant it would be acceptable to make out with Beka’s hand when he wasn’t drunk. He wondered if he’d dream about that now.

Beka smoothed Yuri’s hair, his expression stern but fond. “Do you want help getting undressed? I think you’ll be more comfortable out of those tight jeans.”

Yuri did accept Beka’s help, stripping awkwardly down to his tiger-striped boxer briefs. Beka had seen him completely naked tons of times, so it was dumb he felt more exposed now. He lay back on his rumpled sheets with Beka sitting beside him. Beka was looking at him, but Yuri didn’t know how to interpret his expression and it made him worry that Beka didn’t like what he saw.

“Beka? Am I a twink?”

Beka laughed. “What?” He put his hand on Yuri’s chest, over his heart, and his touch was ember-hot.

“That guy. He said I was a twink.”

Beka shook his head. “Who cares what he said?”

Yuri supposed he didn’t, actually.

Yuri had no plans to say anything at all, but found himself blurting, “I have these messed-up dreams about you.” _Fuck._

“Messed-up how?”

Yuri shouldn’t have said anything. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Just…we don’t act like ourselves.” _We act how I want us to act._

Beka waited for him to say more, but he kept his mouth shut like he should have done from the beginning.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a twink,” Beka said, bypassing the dream conversation. “But I don’t think of you that way at all. You’re not a type to me. You’re unique and incredibly special.”

“Oh.” That was such a cool thing for Beka to say. It was kind of romantic.

On principle, Yuri hated romance. It was the opposite of edgy. But he couldn’t ever hate anything about Beka, or the things he did or said, even if they were kind of romantic.

“Do you have everything you need?” Beka asked. “I should go.”

Yuri grabbed his arm and held on with both hands. “Don’t go.”

“I have to. I need to sleep.”

“Sleep here, with me.” He felt his whole body flush as he made the invitation.

Beka frowned and shook his head. “I can’t. I’m staying at Victor’s. We’ll do something tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Beka?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Beka leaned down and kissed Yuri’s forehead between his eyebrows, a lingering kiss.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Happy Birthday, Yura. I love you.”

Beka got up and left, and a few seconds later Yuri heard the front door close. He was woozy, the room was spinning a little, and he was so fucked-up, but he was pretty sure he’d heard Beka say he loved him.

He hoped Beka knew he loved him too.

~o0o~

He woke up late on Saturday with his head feeling bruised and somehow gritty. He texted Beka first thing, and they made plans to meet. He alternated gulping down strong tea and water as he dressed. He felt like deep-fried shit, but he wasn’t going to waste the little time he’d have with Beka complaining about a headache.

They wandered around all day doing whatever they wanted, which mostly meant doing nothing in particular. Beka slung his arm around Yuri’s shoulders as they walked because they were best buds, skate bros, a team.

They bought doughnuts at Pyshechnaya and ate them on a bench outside.

“This is the best present I’ve ever gotten,” Yuri said shyly, but wanting Beka to know.

“What is?” Beka had sugar on his face. “Doughnuts?”

Yuri elbowed him hard. “You, baka! You’re the best!” He reached over and briskly brushed the sugar from Beka’s chin. And then, barely audible and not making eye contact, he hurriedly said, “I love you too,” though it was excruciating to admit it.

Beka laughed. “I wasn’t sure you heard me.” He leaned over and kissed the side of Yuri’s head. “You’re my most important friend.”

Yuri was embarrassed and so happy he didn’t know what to do. “Same.”

~o0o~

They had dinner with Victor, Katsudon, Yakov and Lilia. Yuri was offered wine but decided to forego alcohol. His stomach was still queasy from all the whiskey.

After dinner, Yuri went with Beka to Victor’s apartment for a sleepover. They’d had sleepovers before, here in St. Petersburg as well as in Almaty and Hasetsu, but Yuri hadn’t felt so strange about them. He hadn’t worried about having weird sexy dreams. He hadn’t worried about getting a boner. But Beka had to fly back to Almaty in the morning, so of course Yuri was going to spend the night with him. As a friend.

When they were both in pajamas, teeth brushed, stretched out on the bed in Victor’s guest room, Yuri began to quietly panic. He was aware that at 18 he was a man by anyone’s estimation, able to drive a car, buy drinks in clubs, fuck whoever he wanted, and vote. But he felt like a child, a late-blooming embarrassment, and the realization that he might be gay for his best friend was a slow-moving horrorshow. What was he supposed to do with these feelings?

Beka had so many opportunities for sex. He was a star in Almaty, in all of Kazakhstan, and women threw themselves at him all the time. Beka didn’t have a serious girlfriend, but he frequently had casual relationships. Girls came and went. Yuri never asked about them and Beka rarely mentioned them. In fact, Beka hadn’t mentioned one in quite awhile, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some girl back in Almaty sleeping with her phone in her hand just in case Beka might text.

Men threw themselves at Beka too, but he’d never had a boyfriend at all. Some of his friends in Almaty were really handsome, but Beka seemed unaware they were hot, much less sexy, and he definitely viewed them as his bros, not his potential boyfriends.

Some people were just super-straight. There was nothing wrong with that. It was just really inconvenient for Yuri and his sexual awakening.

Beka had first approached Yuri because he wanted a friend in the skating world. They were really close now, more than skating buddies, but there was no reason to think Beka could want to have sex with him. Sure, Beka loved Yuri, but that was agape, not eros.

Yuri was aware that someone like himself, a little twink virgin with a pretty face and perfect ass, would find a partner easily if he wasn’t stubbornly fixated on one specific person. He was setting himself up to be lonely and miserable. He should get Vadim’s number from Mila. Vadim would probably treat him okay.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Beka peered at Yuri’s face, brow furrowed, and reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear. “You look so sad.”

Yuri made himself smile. “I just wish you didn’t have to go back so soon.” He held very still, willing Beka to keep touching him.

“We’ll see each other again at Worlds in a couple weeks,” Beka pointed out. He shifted a little closer and ran his fingers through the hair at Yuri’s temple. “Your hair is so long now.”

“Should I get it cut?”

Beka laughed. “No. It’s too pretty to cut.”

Yuri was immediately mortified, flooded with embarrassed heat, but delighted that Beka thought any part of him was pretty.

Beka was still combing through Yuri’s hair, the drag against Yuri’s scalp feeling so good. Yuri couldn’t help making a happy growl, a little purr, and Beka laughed.

“You’re really like a cat, aren’t you? It’s very cute.” He pulled Yuri closer still and kissed his forehead.

It would be a simple thing to shift closer, tilt his chin up, coax Beka’s head down, and let a kiss on the lips happen. Or at least it seemed like it should be simple, but he couldn’t seem to make a move.

“Yura?” Beka was looking at him with a strange expression, worried and wondering at once.

“What?”

“Would you want to…? I mean, what would you think about us trying—”

There was a furious scratching at the door that sounded like someone shredding a stump in a wood chipper, and then it came again. Then a knock.

“Yes?” Beka let go of Yuri and sat up. “Come in.”

Victor poked his head in. “Hi. Can Makkachin sleep in here with you? I’m afraid he’ll scratch at the door all night otherwise.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Beka leaned forward and patted the duvet. “Come on, boy!”

The dog leapt up on the bed and wriggled in between Yuri and Beka. Normally Yuri was very fond of Makkachin, but not when he was a cockblocker. Not that anything would have happened without the dog, but Yuri still resented his presence.

It wasn’t until much later, after Beka was asleep and breathing easy, that Yuri remembered Beka had been about to ask him something that seemed important. He’d have to remember to ask him in the morning.

~o0o~

The sky was still full of stars when Yuri broke the surface of sleep, his back warmed against the protective curve of Beka’s body. Beka’s arm lay across his chest and Beka’s breath was warm and moist on the back of his head. Beka sighed and moved against him with a twist of his hips, and Yuri gasped to feel what had to be Beka’s cock pressed against his ass. Beka whimpered and muttered something unintelligible as he drew Yuri closer still and nudged him again with his cock.

Yuri was shaking, his own cock instantly hard. He wanted to turn in Beka’s arms and offer himself up, any way Beka might want him, and that’s what he’d do if Beka was awake and humping against him, but Beka was asleep. Yuri might as well be a pillow. He shouldn’t take this personally. His reaction, on the other hand, was Beka-specific.

He was tempted to move Beka’s hand down the front of his body to rest over his own hard dick, but decided that was kind of rapey, something he shouldn’t do. He got out from under Beka’s arm being careful not to wake him, and went into the bathroom to jerk off.

It was a pretty miserable orgasm, aching and pining for someone who was gently snoring with a hard-on just a few meters away.

When he returned to the bedroom, Beka was sleeping on his back, Makkachin stretched out alongside him in Yuri’s place. Yuri lay down with a sigh and rolled onto his side so he could look at Beka’s profile while he tried to fall back to sleep.

They’d said they loved each other. It should be easier than this.

~o0o~

The flight from St. Petersburg to Tokyo, including layovers, took 17 hours. It was fucking brutal.

It gave Yuri plenty of time to think about the upcoming Worlds competition, plenty of time to think about where things stood with Beka. He and Beka had skyped seven times in the fifteen days since Beka had left St. Petersburg and they’d all been good conversations, and he hadn’t gotten any sense that Beka wanted to pull away from him. Quite the opposite. He knew he was worried for no reason.

He’d never quite gotten up the nerve to ask Beka what he’d been about to say in Victor’s guest room, afraid it was something like _What would you think about us trying…Google Hangouts instead of skype?_ or _What would you think about us trying…to make more friends?_ because he was tired of Yuri being so clingy and needy. Yuri wanted Beka’s unfinished question to be something momentous, something to change their lives, something to bring them together. _What would you think about us trying…being in love? Just to see how it might go._

When they finally got to Haneda Airport, they had another hour and a half of travel to Saitama City where the competition was being held. On the train, Yuri stuck with Victor and Katsudon; Mila sat with Yakov and Lilia. Mila was angry with herself about the problems she was having with her triple axel, and she was crying, and Yuri couldn't deal with her tears. Her sad made him sad and he didn't know what to do about it.

Beka was already at the hotel, and he was waiting for them all in the lobby even though he’d endured a 10-hour flight himself. Yuri melted into his arms and breathed him in; this was what he’d been looking forward to, all he cared about. Beka kept an arm around Yuri's shoulders and let him lean against his side while Yakov got him checked in.

Beka helped Yuri take his luggage upstairs to his room. While Yuri slumped slack-jawed on the edge of his bed, stupefied by his travel ordeal, Beka hung up his performance clothes and banquet suit for him, then sat beside him and put an arm around his back.

“Do you want to shower?” Beka asked. “Nap? Eat? Whatever you want, we’ll do.”

Would they really shower together? Yuri doubted this.

“I don’t know if I can really sleep,” Yuri said, “but I think I want to rest awhile.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Beka slipped from the bed and knelt at Yuri’s feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your shoes,” Beka told him. He made short work of Yuri’s left shoe as he spoke. “You’re tired.”

“I can do it myself.”

Beka scoffed at this, though he smiled. “Obviously.”

Yuri made no move in the direction of shoe removal. He liked that Beka was taking care of him, and in a few seconds the job was done. Beka made short work of his own shoes as well.

When they were in stocking feet, jackets off, they lay down on the bed facing each other.

“Turn over,” Beka said. “I’ll spoon you.”

Yuri did as he asked, holding his breath as Beka fit himself to his back and drew him closer with an arm over his chest. Beka nuzzled the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed him behind his ear, very tender and definitely more intimate than regular friends. At this point, Yuri was quite sure they weren’t regular friends, but he hadn’t yet figured out exactly how irregular they were.

Now, lying in Beka’s arms on a hotel bed thousands of kilometers from home, Yuri wondered how he’d ever thought he was going to be interested in sex with girls. He’d thought he should want it, and he’d thought he would, somehow, eventually be interested in it, but it was obvious now it would never have had any appeal. He wouldn’t have wanted it even if he’d never met Beka. He wasn’t ever going to tame any pussy in St. Petersburg unless you were literally talking about cats.

He wasn’t interested in guys either, except that Beka was a guy, and that made cocks seem really sexy. He’d seen Beka naked many times and knew he was circumcised, which seemed exotic, but of course he’d never seen Beka’s cock hard and he really wanted to.

He’d watched a lot of gay porn since realizing he was in love with Beka, just to see what kind of sex he was in for if he could ever get Beka to cooperate. Most of it seemed gross for aesthetic reasons, but he’d stumbled across clips of a spindly blond kid getting reamed by a more muscular dude with a dark undercut, and if he squinted it was easy enough to imagine himself and Beka in their places.

The sounds the porn couple made were honestly the best part, and Yuri would get really worked up trying to imagine how he’d sound if Beka was fucking him, how Beka would sound coming in his mouth, whether Beka would sound different coming in his ass.

Embarrassingly, he never really thought about himself fucking Beka. He would set out to enjoy that particular fantasy, yet somehow it always ended up with him riding a dick.

Beka snuggled him closer with a contented sigh. “Yura, you’re the perfect size…”

He wasn’t. He was too little. But he liked that Beka was happy with his small stature.

Even though Beka was two years older and should have been done growing long before they met, he’d grown another 5 cm since Barcelona and was now 10 cm taller than Yuri. Not that Beka was tall, but he was more average now, and Yuri was still abnormally short.

Yuri was in incredible shape—not bragging, just a fact—but he was still just a little wisp of a man, a slender fairy made of solid muscle. Beka was in incredible shape too, and he was lean, but he was broader than Yuri, bigger, more masculine. So much sexier. Lying together like this, Yuri felt sheltered and protected by Beka’s perfect body. He felt loved, but he reminded himself: agape, not eros.

Their phones pinged at the same time. Victor wanted to take everyone out to dinner. Yuri was sorry to break their cozy spell, but he was hungry, and he wasn’t going to get anything except frustration out of cuddling with Beka. They both sat up on the edge of the bed and put on their shoes.

Before they left the room, Beka stopped Yuri and fussed with his hair, finger-combing and smoothing it.

“There,” he said. “Now you’re handsome.”

Yuri was hot with pleasure and couldn’t look at Beka all the way down to the lobby in the elevator.

~o0o~

There was ice time. There was sightseeing. There were restaurants with local specialties. There were fans, including a crowd of cat-eared Yuri’s Angels who went crazy seeing him and Beka together. A lot of the fans had been shipping him and Beka since as far back as Barcelona. Back then, he’d had to have Mila explain shipping to him, and he’d thought it was stupid and gross and typical of annoying girls to ruin everything with sex, but now he was completely on board with the idea.

They skated their short programs. He and Beka gave each other thumbs-up and said _Davai_ , their lucky ritual. At the end of the day, he, Beka and Katsudon were in the top spots, which was what he’d hoped for.

They celebrated by drinking sake with as many skaters and coaches as they could convince to come out to play. Yuri got sleepy and slumped against Beka’s side with his eyes closed. Beka slipped an arm around his back and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Victor, sitting across from them with Katsudon at his side, remarked, “Yuuri, I don’t think we’re skating’s cutest couple anymore.”

Katsudon laughed. “No, young love is cuter, isn’t it?”

Beka laughed too. “Are you talking about us? We’re not really a couple though.”

“Why not?” Victor asked blithely. “He adores you.”

Yuri raised his head, opened his eyes and glared. “Baka, stop talking about me!”

Victor just laughed and poured more sake for Katsudon and himself.

Later at the hotel, Beka saw Yuri to his room and kissed his forehead when they said goodnight. He resisted the urge to ask Beka what Victor had asked: _Why not?_ Why weren’t they a couple? Why not just try it out?

~o0o~

The men had a day off that started with sleeping in, then breakfast, then ice time. Yuri was happy with the way he was skating. He was happy with Beka’s skating too, but Beka was being hard on himself and wouldn’t hear compliments.

At Victor’s invitation, Yuri and Beka went shopping with him and Katsudon. Victor spent a lot of money on stuff he didn’t need, and Katsudon tried to discourage him from the most pointless purchases but without much effect.

They had a cheerful dinner, again with a big group, but neither Yuri nor Beka drank anything beyond a few sips of sake in preparation for their free skates the following afternoon. Yakov didn’t seem to care what Yuri did, but Beka’s coach hovered and wanted him to go to bed early, so he left the party and Yuri’s side long before Yuri was prepared to let him go.

Victor, who didn’t have to worry about his skating performance, was fairly drunk, and he sat down in Beka’s chair, leaning in to invade Yuri’s personal space, and wanting to talk about young love. Yuri was furious and mortified, his skin burning with enraged embarrassment, and he snarled denials. _Baka, he’s my friend_ , and _Shut up, you don’t know what I want_ , and _Just because you’re thirsty as fuck doesn’t mean the rest of us are_.

Katsudon saw what was happening and hurried to intervene, trying to simultaneously soothe Yuri’s hurt and anger and shut Victor up.

“Vitya, please, you’re making Yuri uncomfortable.” Katsudon stood beside Victor’s chair and put a hand on his shoulder.

“What?” Victor blinked up at him in surprise, as if unaware he could bother, offend or upset anyone.

Katsudon stroked Victor’s hair back from his brow. “I know you’re curious. I know you’re interested. But if Yuri has something he wants to share with us, he’ll let us know.” He turned to Yuri and smiled. “Won’t you?”

Yuri scowled, lip curled. “I seriously doubt it, baka.”

“Yurio, I’m sorry,” Victor said, his hand weighing heavily on Yuri’s shoulder. “I’m just concerned about you. I want you to be happy.”

Yuri shrugged out from beneath his hand with a twist of his shoulders and a sneer. “I’m fine. Worry about yourself, old man.”

Victor was unfazed by Yuri’s surliness. “Oh, I’m not worried at all. I’m the happiest person here. I’m married to the man of my dreams, we have the best sex—”

Katsudon flushed red and said, “Vitya!” as he gave Victor a hard nudge. “Yuri doesn’t care.”

“I really don’t,” Yuri assured them. He pushed his chair back from the table. “I’m going to my room. See you tomorrow.”

Up in his room, he checked his phone for messages but there were none from Beka. He took off his jeans and replayed his belly-down ice-fuck dream in excruciating slo-mo, drawing it out as long as possible, and then watched a video of the blond and undercut porn stars to finish himself off.

As he lay on the bed breathing hard, his hand sticky with spunk, his phone pinged.

It was Beka. _wut r u doing_

He replied _nothing_ and went to wash his hand.

They talked about skating and trivialities and the annoyingness of Victor for perhaps an hour. The more they talked, the more obvious it was that they wanted each other’s company.

Beka sent _should’ve had sleepover_

Yuri’s heart was pounding when he replied _tomorrow then_

Beka said _after I win gold_

Yuri sent back _baka u mean when I do_

Adult men didn’t have sleepovers like kids. They slept together. They fucked. They at least kissed. If Beka was even the least bit curious about sex with dudes, he should try it out with Yuri. Yuri would have to think of some way of letting him know he was up for it.

Wasn’t it obvious though? Maybe Beka knew he could have Yuri and his lack of action was his polite answer, meant to save Yuri the embarrassment of rejection.

His phone pinged. _whoever wins ur always most important friend_

And then: _ily <3_

Yuri groaned and threw his phone down on the bed with a bounce. _ily <3_. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? No, he knew what it meant, but he didn’t know why Beka had sent it or how he was supposed to interpret it.

Another message: _going to sleep now. c u tmrw_

Yuri sent back _c u_ and hesitated with _< 3_ onscreen and his finger over the send button.

He backspaced out of it.

~o0o~

Following stellar performances, the top three after the short program were also the medalists after the free skate. Yuri stood beaming on the podium with his bouquet and flower crown, medal resting heavy on his chest, waving to the Yuri’s Angels who were having hysterics in the stands.

Of all the people waiting off the ice, Victor was the happiest for each of the medalists, hugging all associated personnel over and over, including Beka’s coach, Yakov and Lilia.

Victor had been very confident of his husband winning a medal, arranging for a post-skate buffet party in his and Katsudon’s lavish suite to which everyone was invited—skaters, coaches, judges, journalists, federation reps, random people who caught Victor’s notice in the corridor behind the ice. Probably some Yuri’s Angels. Anyone and everyone.

Yuri changed in the locker room, making a point of not looking at Beka. He zipped up his jeans wondering if Beka had meant it about having a sleepover and tried to formulate a sentence that would allow him to ask about overnight plans while coming across as totally chill rather than desperate and thirsty.

Beka was dressed, gear bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go drop my stuff off in my room. I’ll see you at the party?”

Yuri was disappointed Beka wasn’t waiting for him, but only said, “Yeah, of course. See ya.”

Yuri went back to the hotel with Yakov and Lilia, who were full of praise for him, eager to tell him what they’d liked best about his performance, but he gave this little consideration, the best part of his attention focused on Beka. It was like there was one of those news ticker things in his head, that band running across the bottom of the screen, that read _WHAT DO I DO ABOUT BEKA?_ and it ran 24/7 even as he tried to focus on other things.

He wasn’t even enjoying his achievement. Was this how it was going to be to have an unrequited love? Because it fucking sucked.

After he’d dropped off his stuff in his room, he looked at himself in the mirror, hoping he looked hot, or at least somewhat attractive. Skinny jeans with a hole in the knee, but just a little hole. Lord Nermal t-shirt, black hoodie, his old leopard jacket that was always cool. Red tiger high-tops. If his wardrobe had a theme it was: cats. He put his hood back and looked at the braiding he’d done before his skate. The plaits looked okay, not fuzzy or anything. He looked like he always did. He looked fine.

He wished he had eyeliner. He definitely looked sexy with eyeliner. It was probably too late to ask Mila if she had some he could use.

With a sigh, he turned away from the mirror. He checked to make sure he had his key card and left for the party.

~o0o~

A lot of the skate trash in Victor’s suite wanted to talk to him and to Beka, sometimes together and other times separately, though Yuri did his best to stick by Beka. For his part, Beka was affectionate and attentive, bringing Yuri champagne (it seemed like a better idea than whiskey) and sometimes water, saying they should pace themselves.

Beka encouraged him to put his hood back, murmuring _The girls are envious of your pretty hair, Yura_ , teasing and amused, and Yuri couldn’t resist flattery from him, couldn’t resist the idea that he had something other people wanted. He wished Beka was one of those things, but Beka didn’t belong to him or anybody else. Beka was his own.

He had a buzz, but thanks to the water breaks he wasn’t drunk. Beka was talking seriously to some ice dancers—Yuri couldn’t imagine why—so Yuri wandered around snacking on mysterious Japanese appetizers and eavesdropping on boring conversations.

The suite had a big terrace and there were some people out there smoking. Yuri went outside, keeping his distance from the smokers, and leaned over the rail. It was a long way down to the ground.

Yuri felt tired, and maybe it was just fatigue from competing, but it seemed like it might be best to just give up on ever having Beka as a boyfriend, as a lover, and save himself some humiliation. Beka liked girls. Beka would probably let Yuri down easy, and he’d probably want to stay friends, but Yuri didn’t think he could survive that rejection.

“Yura?”

Beka’s voice. Yuri melted a little.

“Hey.” He turned and smiled.

Beka came close and nudged him with an elbow. “Hey. Want to get out of here?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to leave? We could walk around a little. Explore.”

Yuri’s heart leapt in his chest, but he only said, “Yeah, sure. I just want to pee first.”

They were quiet going down in the elevator, quiet walking through the lobby. Outside on the sidewalk, they looked left and then right. The landscape was uninspiring office buildings in either direction.

“The arena’s down this way,” Beka said, gesturing to the right. “I can’t remember if there’s anything interesting around there or not.”

Yuri shrugged. “Let’s go see.”

They began walking, shoulders bumping every few steps. Yuri had his hood up again, a little like a protective shield. A forcefield to ward off romantic disappointment.

As they passed yet another concrete and glass building, Beka laughed, a huff of breath. “This isn’t picturesque Japan, is it?”

Yuri laughed too. “No. It could be literally anywhere except for the signs.”

Beka scrutinized the one they were passing beneath. “It’s called kanji, right? The characters?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you know the kanji for _baka_?”

Yuri laughed again. “No, but I should.” He considered it a moment, then added, “I should get it as a tattoo.” The word _baka_ was his favorite souvenir of Japan.

“We should both get tattoos,” Beka decided, “but not tattoos that say _moron_.”

“No, I guess not. It would seem more like a label than a joke or whatever.” Yuri nudged Beka with his elbow. “What tattoos should we get?”

“I don’t know yet. But I think we should have some that match or go together.”

“That’s a big commitment.” Yuri was thrilled by the idea but at pains to seem skeptical.

Beka shrugged. “I could commit to you, no problem.”

Yuri was suddenly flush with flustered excitement, his skin tight and hot. Did Beka mean to say…? No, of course not.

“This was a dumb idea.” Beka took Yuri’s elbow and drew him to a halt. “Let’s go back. There’s a bar on the roof of our hotel, right?”

“We can just go back to the party if you want to drink,” Yuri pointed out.

“No, I want to be away from skating people. I want to talk to you about something.” He turned around and Yuri went with him.

“That sounds serious.” Yuri’s stomach clenched nervously.

Beka offered him a crooked smile. “It’s serious, but it’s not bad, I promise.” As they retraced their steps, Beka said, “I hoped we could walk around and find some nice old-style bar with, like, lanterns or something, but I don’t think there’s anything like that around here.”

At the hotel, they went up to the roof, walked straight through the bar, and stood out on the terrace looking out over the featureless office buildings they’d just walked past. But there were stars visible too.

”This’ll work.” Beka leaned on the rail beside Yuri and reached into his pocket. “Here.” He handed Yuri a cold can, smaller than a soda can. “Champagne.”

There was a plastic straw attached to the side of the can. Yuri ignored this and popped the top with an effervescent fizz. He was a man; he could drink directly from the can, no straw necessary.

“I took it out of Victor’s mini bar,” Beka said. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

Yuri drank and offered the can to Beka. Beka’s fingers slid alongside his own against the cool metal cylinder.

Beka drank. “Yurochka.”

Yuri took the can back from Beka. “What?”

“I have a lot of friends, regular friends. But you’re not a regular friend for me.”

“No?” Yuri gulped champagne. Beka wasn’t a regular friend for him either.

“No,” Beka said firmly. “I’ve never felt about a guy the way I feel about you.” Beka met Yuri’s eyes, his expression hopeful and worried, or maybe even scared. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

“Oh.” Yuri was suddenly numb, his head buzzing. Was Beka saying that he…?

Beka let out a shaky breath. “There’s something I want to give you.”

“Okay…” Yuri said slowly. They gave each other things all the time. “So give it.” Yuri was still back on the thing Beka had said before. Did Beka mean…?

Beka snatched the can from Yuri’s hand and drank, licking his lips, then cleared his throat. “I kind of need your permission.”

“To give me a present?” Now Yuri was confused. He reached again for the can, but Beka wasn’t letting go.

“I don’t know if it’s really a present.” Beka hesitated, then said, “It’s something I want to give. Maybe you won’t want it.”

Yuri was confused and quickly losing patience. “How will I know if you don’t tell me what it is?”

“Okay.” Beka swallowed hard. “I…”

“What? Just say it!” He was starting to freak out a little.

The silence stretched long.

“It’s a kiss,” Beka confessed. “I want to give you a kiss.”

Yuri gasped and froze at Beka’s side, stunned speechless. He let out a nervous moan.

His thoughts were whirring at an impossible speed, too quick to parse. He wanted to scream _YES_ but it was as if he’d forgotten how his tongue worked, how words happened. He panicked. Beka was offering him something he wanted very, very badly, but he was overwhelmed. He hadn’t expected this. He needed a moment to recover from the shock.

They were very quiet, very still, for what seemed like an eon. Yuri’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure Beka could hear it. He knew he had to say something, but he still had no words, and the silence dragged on while he held his breath.

“It’s okay,” Beka said at last, his tone full of false cheer. “My mistake. Let’s enjoy the champagne anyway.” He thrust the can at Yuri, eyes averted.

With effort, and afraid Beka would change his mind, Yuri found his voice and his resolve. With a hard elbow to Beka’s ribs, Yuri snapped, “Baka! I didn’t say no!”

They were still again a moment and then Beka laughed, low and pleased.

“You didn’t say yes either.” Beka turned to face Yuri with one of the tender, amused smiles he only ever showed to him, and he was so handsome, the actual handsomest man in the world. “So are you gonna kiss me or not?”

“Yes!” Yuri said emphatically, hating the nervous quaver in his voice. “I’m saying yes.” He was shaking like he was scared—because he was. He was scared and thrilled and so fucking excited.

Beka laid his fingertips against Yuri’s cheek, a gentle caress. “I’m glad. So relieved.” He slid his hand around the back of Yuri’s neck and looked into Yuri’s eyes with a soft gaze. “Yura. My kotik.”

 _Kittycat._ Sounding so fond, like Beka had been waiting and waiting to say it.

Beka leaned in, his eyelids dropping closed, lashes sweeping his cheeks, but Yuri kept his eyes open until Beka’s face was a fractured blur, until Beka’s lips brushed his own, plush and warm. Startled by the soft heat of Beka’s mouth, Yuri’s eyes flew open, then fluttered shut, and he held on tight to Beka’s jacket, hands fisted in the creaking leather.

Beka’s tongue slid along the parting of Yuri’s lips, licking him open, and the taste of Beka flooded his mouth. Yuri groaned as he reached after Beka’s tongue with his own, a chase; a silken, muscular game, slick and hot.

Kissing was urgent and vital, sexy and necessary, better than he'd even imagined. Yuri had thought there'd be more of a learning curve, but he was immediately good at it, and Beka was incredible. As Beka's tongue twined around his own, Yuri's entire body was flush with pleasure, his entire skin tingling, his cock harder than he'd ever felt it. 

As they kissed, Yuri was overwhelmed by a confusing mashup of physical sensations and emotional reactions, all of it completely new, completely unfamiliar. He felt raw and defenseless, painfully sensitive, a mess of needs only Beka could satisfy. He whimpered, wanting Beka’s hands on his skin, wanting Beka’s bare skin against his own. Beka's spit tasted good, human and salt-tinged. Beka's lips were petal-soft, the surrounding skin just faintly stubbled, rough against Yuri's cheek. As Beka's lips opened against Yuri's with a rush of warm breath, Yuri was on the verge of exploding, skin tight, heart racing. He wrested his mouth away from Beka’s kiss, gasping for air. Beka leaned his forehead against Yuri’s and caressed his cheek.

“Kotik, will you come with me?”

“Where are we going?” he demanded, sounding so stupidly surly when all he’d wanted to say was _yes_. He was suddenly so nervous.

Beka smiled, seeming to find him cute. “I want to take you downstairs.” He leaned close and whispered in Yuri’s ear, “If you’ll let me, I’ll make you come.”

“What?” Yuri couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He realized now he’d been wanting to hear Beka say something like this since Barcelona.

“If you want, I’ll—”

A jolt of electricity surged through Yuri’s body. “Why wouldn’t I want that?” he demanded, sounding like a total dick. But Beka didn’t seem to mind.

Beka laughed. “You might have your reasons. They’d be stupid reasons though.” He kissed Yuri’s nose and took his hand. “Come on.”

They passed through the bar, Yuri hoping no one was noticing his half-hard dick. As they stood kissing at the elevator, Beka asked, “Is my room okay? I have stuff we might need.”

Oh. Yuri hadn’t even thought of that. Condoms and lube and whatever else might be required—he didn’t know, because he was a fucking virgin. Did that mean Beka had come to Worlds wanting to have sex with Yuri specifically? Or did Beka just always have condoms handy because so many people wanted to fuck him?

But all Yuri said was, “Yeah, your room is fine.”

They were quiet in the elevator, quiet in the hall, quiet while Beka fumbled with the key card. The room was dim, the only light coming from the lamps on the nightstands. Beka pulled Yuri inside and pushed him up against the wall, pinning him in place with his entire body. Yuri could feel Beka’s cock angled across his own through their jeans and it felt fucking huge. Beka kissed him with hungry ferocity, softly moaning like Yuri was delicious, a treat. Yuri touched Beka everywhere he could reach, his hands ranging over Beka’s shoulders, back and ass, and he arched into the heat and pressure from Beka’s body, wanting to be closer, always closer.

Nudity felt like a right answer. Yuri pushed Beka away and tugged down the zipper of his hoodie, wanting out of his clothes. The zipper jammed, the fabric of his t-shirt somehow caught in its teeth, and he growled in frustration and yanked at it to no avail.

Beka made a soothing sound, a tender hum. “Shh. Let me help you.”

While Yuri quivered and gasped for breath, Beka managed the zipper without fanfare, opening it with a neat snick. Beka took hold of Yuri’s wrists gently but firmly and held them up flat against the wall, then bent his head to kiss Yuri’s neck, wet, open-mouthed kisses that made Yuri whimper, teeth on skin and a licking tongue. Yuri had never been so turned-on, hard cock straining at his tight jeans, knees weak, and he arched his neck to offer more skin for Beka’s mouth as Beka released his hands and eased his hoodie and jacket off his shoulders.

Beka ran his hands over Yuri's body as they kissed, his fingertips hot through Yuri's t-shirt, and Yuri felt drawn to him like a magnet, aching for his touch. Beka slid his hands beneath Yuri's shirt and up his sides; Yuri shivered, his skin prickling to gooseflesh, his body buzzing and throbbing under Beka's assured hands. Beka's thumbs brushed Yuri's nipples and Yuri cried out in shocked pleasure as Beka pinched them hard, then harder still; they were almost unbearably sensitive as Beka rolled them between his fingertips. As Beka teased his little nipples, Yuri whimpered helplessly, everything feeling better than his wildest imaginings. Yuri kissed Beka hard, letting out soft, hungry grunts; Beka very gently bit Yuri's lip, just a hint of pain.

Beka suddenly stopped kissing him, and it felt like cruelty.

Beka shrugged his own jacket onto the floor, took a step back, and pulled his t-shirt off overhead, tossing it aside. He was perfect, Yuri’s own personal god, sleek and defined and masculine like Yuri could only dream of being. Yuri’s hands were shaking; he steadied them against Beka’s chest, feeling Beka’s nipples stiffen beneath his fingertips.

“Yura, your shirt.”

Beka reached for the hem of Yuri’s t-shirt and lifted it, and Yuri raised his arms so Beka could pull it all the way off. When he was bare-chested, Beka embraced him, hands ranging over his naked back and beneath the waistband of his jeans. The press of their bodies was a shock; Yuri hadn't expected Beka's skin to be so hot, so soft. Yuri slid his trembling hands over Beka’s perfect skin, satin over pliant muscle. He was shivering, waves of tension passing through his body, and he was so turned on he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know how he was supposed to act.

“Ah, kotik.” Beka’s voice was a husky tickle in Yuri’s ear. “You’re shaking. Come lie down with me.” He kissed Yuri’s mouth a last time and took his hand, turning to lead him the short distance to the bed.

Yuri felt stupid for being so nervous, because men weren’t supposed to be nervous about sex even if they were virgins. But Beka didn’t seem to think there was anything shameful about Yuri’s uncomfortable mix of anxiety and arousal. Beka took Yuri by the shoulders and sat him down on the bed.

“I’ll take care of you.” Beka smiled tenderly down at Yuri’s upturned face. “This will be fun, I promise.”

Yuri laughed, a bit of tension relieved. Of course it would be fun. It was sex!

Beka crossed the room to dig in his bag, shifting folded t-shirts aside, and pulled out a bottle and a strip of condoms.

“What are those for?” Yuri asked, unable to suppress a nervous quaver. It was a stupid question. Obviously he knew what they were for.

“Maybe for later,” Beka said, tossing them onto the bed. “Just in case.”

Beka knelt down and began to untie Yuri’s shoes just as he had on Yuri’s birthday and the day Yuri had arrived here for the competition.

“So your thing with taking my shoes off …” Yuri began, looking down at Beka’s ruffled hair, his broad shoulders. “Is it like a fetish or something?”

Beka snorted, amused. “No. Do you want to take them off yourself?”

Yuri shook his head. “No. I like that you’re doing it for me.” He ran his fingers through Beka’s hair, and this time Beka didn’t tell him to stop.

When Yuri’s feet were bare, Beka braced his hands on Yuri’s spread thighs and pushed himself up between them to kiss Yuri’s mouth. Yuri clung to him and drew him along as he lay back on the bed. He wrapped his legs around Beka’s hips and moaned as he felt Beka’s weight holding him down. He trembled anew, fingers digging into Beka’s back as they kissed. His cock throbbed, constrained by his tight jeans, and he squirmed beneath Beka, wanting more pressure.

Beka abruptly pushed himself up on straight arms, putting space between their bodies. His face was flushed, his pupils blown wide. He reached down and rubbed Yuri’s dick through his jeans, and Yuri arched up beneath him with a startled moan. Muscles clenched deep at the root of his cock as it flexed, a surge of slickness welling from the slit, and he let out a soft wail, a cat-cry, and longed for something more, though he was too inexperienced to know what he needed.

Beka had some idea. He unbuttoned and unzipped Yuri’s jeans and touched Yuri’s cock through his underwear. He watched Yuri’s face, wanting to make sure Yuri liked it.

Yuri fucking loved it.

There was a vast difference between touching his dick himself and having Beka touch it for him. It was a completely new experience, more urgent, with a deeper ache, and he already wanted more, skin on skin.

Beka took his hand out of Yuri’s pants and bent to kiss him.

“Scoot up,” he said. “More on the bed.” He shifted to kneel at Yuri’s side in unbuttoned, half-zipped jeans.

Yuri wriggled further toward the middle of the bed.

“Lift up,” Beka said softly, patting Yuri’s hip, and as Yuri obeyed, Beka eased Yuri’s jeans and underwear down his thighs. Yuri’s hard cock caught on his underwear elastic and then slapped back against his belly with a soft smack. When Yuri was completely naked, he felt dangerously vulnerable, painfully exposed, and fought against the urge to cover himself with his hands.

The light from the lamps was golden and soft, flattering his fit little body and softening its hard lines. The sparse blond hairs on his chest and groin were silvered and glittering. His hard cock was flushed and fat, and Yuri was confident his was a nice one, nothing to be ashamed of.

Beka swore softly under his breath, admiring Yuri’s naked body with a look of such longing.

“You’re beautiful, Yura.” Beka stroked Yuri’s thigh, his touch light, knee to groin, just whispering past his balls.

“Y-you too,” Yuri managed, shivering again.

Beka turned away and bent, his hands below the level of the bed, and Yuri thought he was taking off his shoes. He stood and stripped off his jeans and underwear, and now Yuri was finally seeing what Beka’s dick looked like hard.

It was fucking magnificent.

Yuri knew about the variety in cocks thanks to porn, and he knew that porn cocks weren’t typical, but Beka’s dick was thick even for a porn cock. Even as he was getting more and more excited, he worried that he wouldn’t be able to suck such a fat dick. He worried that his virgin asshole couldn’t take anything so girthy. He would fucking well try though.

Beka knelt on the bed at Yuri’s right hip, his big cock sticking up from his lap, the head shiny with precome. Yuri had a little puddle of precome on his belly, a fine thread connecting his cockhead to the slick. Beka reached across Yuri’s body to stroke his side; Yuri flinched a little at his touch, too wound-up.

“I’ve thought a lot about sucking your cock,” Beka said, low and confidential. He blushed red as he admitted this. “I haven’t done it before, but I really want to try.”

“O-okay.” Yuri could barely breathe. So Beka definitely hadn’t done this before either? That made Yuri feel a little less like a virgin loser.

“I want to make you feel good, so tell me if I don’t, all right? I want you to get what you need from me.” Beka was very earnest, very insistent, maintaining eye contact as he ran his busy hands over Yuri’s body, teasing his nipples and ruffling the fine hairs on his skin with his fingertips.

“Okay.” Yuri’s voice was just a constricted croak. He felt so pent-up he could explode, quivering helplessly from the touch of Beka’s hand.

Beka bent and kissed him, stretching out alongside him at the same time. Beka’s big dick rubbed his hip, the head sliding through its own slick trail, and Yuri moaned as he melted into the contact, wanting Beka’s wet cockhead on his mouth, the hollow of his throat, his nipples, anywhere Beka might put his fingers or lips.

He didn’t ask for this though, and then Beka was kissing his way down Yuri’s body, giving attention to his nipples. Despite their small size, they were exquisitely sensitive, tightening almost painfully hard as Beka sucked and licked. Each flick of Beka’s tongue sent dark darts of pleasure directly to Yuri’s cock. He writhed beneath Beka’s mouth, his hands fisted in Beka’s hair, hips bucking. Yuri had had no idea his cock could get so hard, and he had a dim worry that it might be bad somehow, but he didn’t care. If sex with Beka broke his dick, it would’ve been worth it.

Beka’s hand was between Yuri’s legs, cupping his balls, and he moaned and spread his legs further apart. Beka kissed a leisurely trail from nipples to belly and paused to lick up Yuri’s puddle of precome, which seemed fucking dirty and so affectionate at once. Beka took hold of Yuri’s cock at the base, which made Yuri yelp and lift his hips off the bed. He settled down almost immediately, restless and tense but so fucking eager.

Yuri raised his head, then pushed himself up to his elbows and looked down his body to watch Beka nosing around the base of his cock. Beka was smelling him, tasting him with little licks, rubbing his ever-so-slightly-rough cheek against the hot, tender skin of Yuri’s shaft. As Beka did this, he let out frequent grunts of satisfaction, discovery, pleasure.

Having his bare cock touched, nuzzled, licked was almost unbearable, intolerably good. Yuri whimpered at each lick, each touch, as he shivered with tension. His cock throbbed in Beka's hand, hot and tender, and everything Beka was doing felt so good. He wanted to come, but he also wanted this to go on forever.

Beka gave Yuri’s cock a couple of loose strokes, playing with his foreskin, covering and exposing Yuri’s cockhead. Then Yuri felt Beka’s hot breath around his cockhead, and Beka closed his lips around it, his tongue swirling around its curve. Yuri gasped, shocked by the intensity of his pleasure. Beka let out a deeply satisfied groan, as if Yuri’s cock was the most delicious thing he’d ever put in his mouth. Yuri made a noise that sounded embarrassingly frightened to his own ears, but Beka seemed to take it as encouragement. He slid his mouth down Yuri’s shaft, lowering his head toward Yuri’s groin, then pulled off, cheeks hollowed as he sucked, and then he did it again.

Yuri fell back flat on the bed, stunned and stupefied. This felt incredible, so much better than he had imagined, and it was perfect because this was Beka’s mouth stretched around his dick, and he was happier than he’d ever believed he could be. As Beka raised his head a third time, the hungry suction and liquid pressure of his mouth were too much, too good, and Yuri arched up into Beka’s throat and came with blinding force, pulse after pulse, as he let out triumphant cries.

_Fuckyeahblowjob!_

He lay dazed on the bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling and fire sprinklers. He felt amazing. He was having sex! Finally! With the only person he’d ever wanted! He was so fucking happy!

But he was almost instantly critical of his performance. He’d come basically immediately, which was not cool at all. And wasn’t he supposed to have warned Beka that he was going to come? Beka was never going to want to do this again.

But maybe Beka was okay with it. Beka was still licking Yuri’s cock, breathing hard, his hand on his own cock, his sleek body wracked with little tremors, and even someone as inexperienced as Yuri could tell that Beka probably wanted to come too.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” he asked, hopeful and nervous.

Beka raised his head to look at Yuri, his pleased groan modulating into a laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d love that.”

Beka shifted to lie by Yuri’s side, their faces close together, and Yuri kissed him, deep and thorough and slow, seeking traces of himself. Beka seemed to know what he was doing and laughed softly as they kissed.

Yuri thought about what Beka had done to him and kissed his way down Beka’s neck, noticing the demarcation between the skin where beard hairs grew and the smooth skin lower down. Yuri kissed the sweep of Beka’s collarbone, the curve of his chest, the slab of pectoral muscle, and finally the cinnamon-pink disc of his nipple, which immediately hardened beneath Yuri’s tongue as Beka gasped and arched beneath him.

As Yuri kissed and licked and sucked, Beka stroked Yuri’s hair, his shoulders, and even brought Yuri’s hand to his mouth to kiss the knuckles. When Yuri dared look up at him, he was looking back, his expression soft yet intent, all wonderment. Almost better than having his own dick sucked was knowing that Beka liked what he was doing now, that it felt good to him.

Yuri was apprehensive about sucking a dick, about doing it right, but also worried that he wouldn’t be able to fit Beka’s monster cock in his mouth. It looked huge, but maybe it would feel more manageable in his hand. Yuri gathered up his courage and reached for Beka’s fat dick, hot and unwieldy, flexing hard against his fingers. Beka groaned and twisted his hips, pushing his dick through Yuri’s grip. Yuri froze, overwhelmed by the enormity of his task.

There was just no way Yuri was going to be able to fit Beka’s dick in his mouth.

Beka read his mind. “Whatever you can do will be so good,” he assured him. “Licking, kissing…you can use your hands. You don’t have to do what I did, okay?”

Yuri didn’t answer. He was going to try anyway.

He shifted to kneel between Beka’s spread legs and tucked his long hair behind his ears as he bent over Beka’s dick. Yuri had seen plenty of circumcised dicks in porn, but it was different when it was in your hand, different when it was attached to someone you adored. It seemed exotic and sculptural. Yuri gripped it at the base, feeling it throb against the circle of his fingers, and bent down to lap at the precome welling from the slit.

Beka groaned and shuddered beneath him as he licked. Beka’s precome was like his own, slippery and just faintly salty. He licked all around Beka’s cockhead, pressing sucking kisses to its hot, suede-skinned curves, and then opened his mouth wide to take it in. The head filled his mouth, straining his jaw. He tried to take in some of the length but gagged immediately. He sucked the head and stroked the shaft with his hands and hoped Beka would like it.

“Yeah,” Beka murmured. “Like that with your hands. Fuck, Yura…I love your mouth.” He tangled his fingers in Yuri’s hair, touched Yuri’s cheek as he sucked.

Yuri’s chest swelled with pride, happy he was doing it right.

Beka whimpered and shifted beneath Yuri’s mouth and hands, his hips moving in tight, controlled circles. With his hands weighing heavy on Yuri’s head, he warned, “I’m gonna come, Yura. I’m too turned on. I—” And then he let out a shout and lifted his hips against Yuri’s mouth and came in long, bitter-salty pulses, his cock jerking in Yuri’s hands and against the roof of his mouth.

Yuri choked and swallowed and swallowed again. He was really fucking proud of himself, and really turned on, and his cock was hard again, and he wondered if it would be too greedy to ask Beka for more sex, the same thing or something new, just more.

Beka was hauling him up to lie nose to nose and kissing him, delving deep, whimpering his satisfaction.

“Thank you, Yura, that was so good,” Beka assured him. “You were perfect.”

“Really?” Yuri doubted this.

“Yeah, really, I promise. You did really well.” He nuzzled Yuri’s neck, kissing the slope from ear to shoulder.

Yuri still wasn’t convinced. “Have other people actually sucked your dick? Like you did mine?”

Beka shook his head. “It’s too big for that.”

Yuri had never considered there’d be downsides to having a really big dick. Now that he knew how incredible a blow job felt, he was very sorry Beka would never experience that pleasure.

But Beka wasn’t dwelling on what he was missing. He drew Yuri close and stroked his hair, speaking to him in a husky murmur, saying he was happy, saying Yuri was amazing, saying he wanted to do everything with Yuri, wanted to do so much more.

“Like what?” Yuri asked, lifting his head from Beka’s shoulder. He sounded too suspicious, too demanding, when really he was just nervous. “Do you want to fuck me?” He didn’t mean to sound so hostile, but it seemed like his mouth could only argue and complain.

“Yeah, of course. It feels so good, and I think it’ll feel good for you too.”

Yuri flinched, intimidated anew by the big dick issue, and was pissed at himself for being a baby.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Beka asked. “If you don’t, it’s okay—”

“Baka!” Yuri snarled. “Would I bring it up if I didn’t want it?” He was practically insulting Beka, so contemptuous. If he kept this up, Beka wasn’t going to want anything to do with him.

Beka drew him closer and kissed his forehead. “I’d love to fuck you, kotik. I want to be closer to you than anyone. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” As if issuing a challenge, Yuri demanded, “What if I wanted to fuck you?”

Beka shrugged and hugged him closer still. “Sure. You could if you wanted. It’d only be fair.”

Somehow Yuri had not anticipated that Beka might answer in the affirmative, and was speechless considering the implications. While he was wide-eyed and quiet, Beka eased him down onto his back and began to cover him in kisses, bringing his body to bright, glimmering life.

The way Beka was touching him, kissing him, was so fucking good, so right. Each kiss was a soft wet fever-bloom searing his skin; each swipe of Beka’s tongue was a slick shimmering burn that marked him as claimed. He arched beneath Beka’s mouth, whimpering like an animal. He lost himself in pleasure, giving himself over to Beka’s tongue and fingertips without reservation. He felt on the verge of dissolving, a sensation like melting, limbs limp.

Beka suddenly lifted his head from Yuri’s belly and said, “Let’s take a shower.”

“What?” Yuri blinked, startled. His hands were fisted in Beka’s hair, his legs wrapped around Beka’s torso, his hard cock making a puddle of precome—he wasn’t in the mood for a fucking shower!.

“Let’s shower. I want to do something for you, but we should wash first.”

Yuri was immediately resistant. “What are you gonna do?”

Beka laughed. “Can’t you be surprised?”

“No.” Yuri glowered at him, nervous again.

Beka rolled his eyes. “Fine. I want to eat your ass, but I want it fresh.”

Oh. Yuri’s entire body flushed a fiery pink with a mix of mortification and intense arousal. Yuri let go Beka’s hair, unwrapped his legs from around Beka’s body.

“Okay. I’ll take a shower,” he said meekly.

Beka laughed at him, though he did so with affection.

Yuri had always imagined that shower sex was extra-sexy, but Beka was unexpectedly reluctant, and then it turned out that wet skin wasn’t actually very slippery against wet skin at all, and getting pelted in the face with water wasn’t great either. It was fun to make a lot of lather and wash each other though. Beka made Yuri stand facing the wall, hands flat against the tile, and thoroughly soaped his ass crack, which made Yuri yelp in shock.

“Don’t be shy,” Beka said. “We’re gonna get a lot more intimate than this.” His soapy finger teased Yuri’s hole as he kissed the nape of Yuri’s neck.

Out of the shower, Beka helped Yuri dry off, kissing and licking his clean skin. He was down on one knee licking the underside of Yuri’s hard cock, and then he stood, scooping Yuri up, and Yuri was folded over his shoulder, startled and protesting.

“Hey!” Yuri flailed around as Beka carried him out into the bedroom.

Beka laughed. “Hey what?” He bent and deposited Yuri on the bed with a bounce.

Yuri lay sprawled, flushed and breathless, looking up at him. “You’re really gonna lick my ass?”

Beka grinned. “I really am.” His cock was hard and he gave it a couple of strokes.

Yuri had seen rimming many times in porn, but somehow hadn’t believed regular people did it. Even fresh from the shower, it was fucking dirty.

“Knees up,” Beka said.

Yuri bent his spread legs, splayed wide, feeling way too exposed. Beka took hold of him by the hips and pulled him into position, his ass not quite hanging off the edge of the bed. Beka grabbed one of the pillows from the head of the bed and dropped it on the floor; this, Yuri realized, must be for his knees.

Beka leaned in between Yuri’s spread legs and kissed him, sweet and hungry. He pressed his forehead to Yuri’s and ran his fingers through the loose length of Yuri’s damp hair.

“I think you’re gonna like this,” Beka said, “but if you don’t, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Beka licked Yuri’s cock and sucked it a little, and Yuri moaned in dismay when Beka let it slide from his mouth and paid attention to his balls. It still felt good, but it wasn’t cock-level good. His mouth still moving on Yuri’s skin, Beka knelt and licked a liquid line from the sensitive skin just above Yuri’s asshole up to his balls. It felt so wet, so tender and ticklish. Yuri hated being tickled, but this was different.

“Knees up,” Beka reminded him, pressing down on the backs of his thighs. “Come on, ballet boy. You can do better.”

Yuri drew his knees up. A fat drop of Beka’s spit slid down over Yuri’s hole, making him squirm. Beka held Yuri’s thigh wide with one hand and drew a slow circle around Yuri’s clenching hole with the index finger of the other. Yuri groaned and willed Beka to give him more, something harder and deeper.

Now Beka rubbed at the opening, just a fingertip drawing the smallest of circles on sensitive puckered skin. It felt incredible; Yuri had not realized his asshole had so much potential. Beka kissed Yuri’s inner thigh, the inner curve of his ass cheek, and finally Yuri’s asshole.

First it was just a kiss, barely more than a peck, but then Beka’s tongue got involved, jolting Yuri like a lightning strike, the dirty electric pleasure seeming to levitate him off the bed if only for a moment.

Beka laughed and squeezed Yuri’s thighs. “Keep your knees up, kotik.”

Not only was Beka licking and kissing, he was probing, his tongue coaxing Yuri to relax, to give way. The idea of Beka’s tongue breaching his hole made Yuri’s cock jerk, fattened by a fresh surge of blood and leaking precome onto his belly. As Beka licked and sucked and ate his ass with greedy enthusiasm, Yuri let go of one thigh and used that hand to tease his own hard little nipples, the intense overlapping pleasures from both nipples and asshole almost painful, almost too much.

Yuri had no idea how long Beka had been working on his ass, but he was too fucking turned on, way past ready to take on a challenge like Beka’s ginormous cock. Beka suddenly lifted his head, giving Yuri’s ass a final lick, and stood. Before Yuri could voice a protest, Beka had stretched out on the bed beside him, scooping up the lube and condoms. They repositioned themselves toward the middle of the bed and Yuri rolled up on his side to face Beka, daring to reach down between their bodies to take hold of Beka’s dick, which jerked against his fingers.

“What are we doing?” Yuri asked in a loud whisper. Why was he whispering? He was behaving like a total baka.

“I want to put my fingers in your ass.” Beka flipped the cap on the lube bottle and squeezed a little out on his fingertip. “Is that okay?”

Watching this, Yuri began to shiver, too excited, the anticipation unbearable.

“Is it okay to do that?” Beka repeated.

“Yeah, of course,” Yuri said impatiently. “You can do whatever.”

“I want you to know you can tell me to stop at any time, all right?”

Yuri was never going to do that, and countered with, “I want you to fuck me.” As he said the words, Beka’s big dick throbbed in his hand.

“We’re working up to it,” Beka promised him. Beka paused for a moment, lip caught between his teeth as he enjoyed the lazy strokes Yuri was giving his cock, and let out a little grunt of pleasure. “Okay. Okay then. Lie down on your back again.”

Yuri lay on his back, knees up and spread wide while Beka bent over him and kissed him. That Beka was kissing him with a dirty ass-mouth was weirdly arousing and his heart pounded even harder as Beka’s tongue curled around his own.

Beka sat back on his heels and rubbed cold lube on Yuri’s hole, making him flinch.

“Sorry. Lube is always cold,” Beka explained by way of apology.

Beka rubbed his extra-slick fingertip on Yuri’s opening, little teasing circles.

“Relax for me,” Beka said. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Yuri was holding his breath. He let it out, his exhalation turning into a groan as Beka pushed a finger inside his body. It felt weird, but not bad. In fact, it seemed like it would feel even better if there were more fingers, or a fatter finger, or a big juicy dick instead of just this lone finger.

“ _Fuuuuuck…_ ” was what came out of his mouth.

“Feels good?” Beka was looking at him, eyebrow cocked, expecting an answer.

“More.” Yuri was willing to cut straight to the dick, but suspected Beka would be more careful with his ass.

“Another finger,” Beka decided. He withdrew his finger, added more lube, and pushed two fingers back into Yuri’s body. “Do you know about your prostate?” Beka asked.

“Baka, of course!” Yuri snapped. “I have the internet too.”

“Have you played with it?” Beka felt around inside Yuri’s ass, prodding and probing.

Yuri had, and he was going to say so, but then Beka found the right spot and Yuri melted beneath the steady strokes of his fingers, the perfect pressure. He whimpered as he turned to liquid, a puddle of sweet syrup.

“You like that?” Beka was watching his face, intent and curious, and Yuri had to close his eyes so as not to die of embarrassment.

“What do you think?” Yuri was gruff, brusque, face hot. “Keep doing it!”

Beka bent low and kissed him. Yuri clung to Beka’s shoulders and neck, and writhed beneath him, trying to get Beka’s fingers deeper inside, wanting more of the pleasure that shimmered out from the hot center of his body in rippling waves. All noise was stripped away, and all that mattered were his body’s responses: the rasp of his breath, the quickened thud of his heart, the tightness of his skin, with its raised hairs and stiff nipples, and the aching of his cock, throbbing and leaking precome against his quivering belly. He raised his hips, arching beneath Beka’s weight, moaning with pleasure at the relief he felt when his slick cockhead rubbed against Beka’s hard abs.

Yuri went slowly crazy as Beka fingered him, losing his words, losing track of time, losing self-awareness, utterly absent of pride. He would do anything Beka asked, anything at all. He answered Beka’s kisses with hunger, then caught his breath while Beka kissed and gently bit his neck, and Yuri had the distant thought that Beka should mark him.

When Beka sat back on his heels and took his fingers out of Yuri’s body, Yuri howled his dismay as shameless as an animal and grabbed after Beka, his fingertips just grazing Beka’s skin.

“You want more, don’t you?” Beka asked softly, voice low. “Well, I’m getting you ready for more.” Yuri heard the wet blat of the lube bottle. “Three fingers,” Beka said, his slippery fingertips pressing at the opening to Yuri’s body.

Three fingers felt weird and awkward, but Yuri considered that a dick wouldn’t have knuckles. A dick would feel different.

“I just want to be sure,” Beka began. “Earlier, you said you might want to be on top…?”

 _Seriously?_ Yuri couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

Nothing they’d done so far this evening led anywhere near a conclusion where Yuri fucked Beka; quite the opposite. In fact, nothing that had happened throughout their entire friendship indicated Yuri would ever be in a position to stick his dick in Beka. Looking back, all signs, at all times, pointed to Beka fucking the shit out of a grateful Yuri.

Admittedly, Yuri had always wanted to be someone who belonged on top, asserting his manhood, but now that he had a choice, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to be the one who spread his legs for Beka and his gorgeous fantasy cock.

Beka was being deliberately dumb, probably in the name of respecting Yuri’s right to withdraw consent or something. Not that consent wasn’t important, but as far as Yuri was concerned, he’d issued a blanket _YES_ when they’d kissed on the hotel rooftop.

“Baka, no! I want you inside me,” Yuri said scornfully. “You’ve seen your fucking dick, right? Why wouldn’t I want that?”

Beka laughed. “Okay. Just checking.” 

“Less checking, more doing,” Yuri suggested, wriggling around in hopes of getting more pressure on his prostate.

“In the future, I’ll just do,” Beka explained. “But for now, until we know each other better this way, you’ll have to deal with me checking.”

Yuri rolled his eyes again, but it was nice that Beka cared about what he wanted and how he was feeling.

Beka fucked him with his fingers a few more strokes, decisive little thrusts, and then took his fingers and bumpy knuckles away. He ignored Yuri’s whining complaints and reached for the condoms and lube.

Yuri propped himself up on his elbows and watched Beka roll a condom on his cock. He was exhilarated and apprehensive about getting fucked in the ass, especially with such a fat dick, but it seemed like the same sort of challenge as a new jump, something he would master if he threw himself into it.

Beka slicked his cock with a dollop of lube, then added more cold lube to Yuri’s hole, his touch tender but purposeful.

“Lie back,” Beka said. “Relax. Deep breaths. You ready?”

“Baka, I’ve been ready all this time,” Yuri complained. He squirmed side to side, hitching his legs higher.

“I’ve wanted this a long time,” Beka said. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to open you up on my cock.” He pushed his cock down with his thumb, lining it up with Yuri’s hole. “Breathe, kotik. It won’t go in if you hold your breath.”

Yuri breathed. He could feel Beka’s cockhead pushing at his opening and concentrated on relaxing, on letting it happen.

“Bear down a little,” Beka said.

“What?” Yuri lifted his head, startled. He wasn’t about to shit on Beka’s dick!

“It’ll help.” Beka pushed a little harder, a nudge that was still a request, a knock rather than a battering ram.

Yuri bore down.

And Beka was right, and Beka’s cock began to open him up.

The stretch was beyond anything he’d expected, anything he’d ever experienced, going on and on while Beka encouraged him to _breathe, kotik_. He breathed into the stretch, breathed into the burn, breathed while Beka eased inside him, millimeter by millimeter, and gently petted his now-limp cock.

This was intimate as fuck. He was too astonished to be embarrassed.

Beka shifted a little closer, pushed a little harder, and Yuri was about to say _no stop it’s too much_ , but then there was a sensation of a threshold breached, a sort of pop and slide, and the head of Beka’s cock was inside his body.

“Yura,” Beka said, voice full of awe, rocking against him in little thrusts, a bit deeper in with each push. “You feel amazing.”

Yuri was speechless. The stretch of the rim of his hole around Beka’s fat cock was intense, but he had some control over that, some ability to breathe and relax and allow Beka inside. But his prostate was just _there_ , outside of his control, with nowhere to escape from a relentless fat dick that rubbed and rubbed and slid, sending up sparks with each thrust. It was almost frightening.

Almost.

But he wouldn’t be a frightened little bitch, not when he wanted this so badly. This was tough, tougher than expected, but he could throw himself into it and come out the other side with skills.

“Are you okay, Yura? Do you want to stop?” Beka was already beginning to pull out.

“No!” Yuri reached with his arms and legs and latched onto Beka, holding him close. “I’m getting used to it, is all.”

“Does it hurt? I don’t want to hurt you.”

It wasn’t so much that it hurt. Rather, it was terrifying. Too intense, too intimate. But he was willing to share something like this with Beka, and Beka alone.

“No.” Yuri shook his head. “Please. I really want to do this with you.”

“Okay. But you know you can tell me to stop any time, right?” Beka tilted his hips forward, pushing deeper.

“Oh my god, yes, baka, I know.” Yuri was never going to tell him to stop, not ever, no matter how overwhelming this got.

Yuri clung to Beka with both arms and legs, and Beka bent low to give him a kiss, which also pushed his cock deeper into Yuri’s body.

“I’m all the way inside you.” Beka touched Yuri’s face and gave him a tender kiss. “How’re you doing, kotik?”

“It’s intense,” Yuri admitted. “It’s a lot.”

“I’m going to move, all right? If it hurts, you tell me.”

Beka shifted a little, kneeling closer to Yuri’s ass, knees spread around Yuri’s hips. He pressed down on the backs of Yuri’s thighs and began to thrust, smooth and slow, and maybe that was supposed to be easier on Yuri, but it was heavy as fuck, like a slow-moving avalanche that was totally going to bury him alive, that he couldn’t possibly escape. His stretched hole ached and burned, the muscle clenching in spasms around Beka's thick shaft. Each thrust filled him so deep he couldn't catch his breath. The pressure against his prostate was relentless, Beka's fat cockhead like a bludgeon, his body torn up with harrowing pleasure.

Yuri tried to relax into it, to let it happen to him. Ripples of sensation radiated out from the core of his body to the tips of his fingers, his toes, his hard cock, rough pleasures that swirled like smoke, hot on his tongue, breath like fire. His cock stood up quivering and slick, and when he reached for it, Beka said _That’s right, kotik, show me what feels good_.

His body opened up. His heart beat like a fist on a door and his breath rasped in his throat as he learned what it meant to be fucked for real, completely overwhelmed. The meaty smack of Beka’s hips slamming into his ass anchored him in his flesh, yet each thrust also threatened to knock him loose, to untether him from his body with raw-edged sensations that were too big to be contained within his skin.

He could hear his voice as if from a distance, a throaty keening keeping pace with the perfect hurt that was rubbed through him each time Beka withdrew his cock, a sweet, pulling ache that bloomed into bright ecstasy as Beka thrust in deep.

He didn’t even know what to call what he was feeling. This was pleasure unlike anything he’d had before, fierce and nuanced and a little scary. The sensations crashed over him like waves—a sharp-toothed high, a tender respite, a honeyed agony—but it was all pleasure, exhilarating and terrifying, and he was never without it, it never let up. As Beka moved faster and thrust in harder, it got worse, or better, or just _more_ , and Yuri fought against panic, but he absolutely didn’t want to stop.

When he came, it wasn’t like any orgasm he’d had before. He didn’t ejaculate, didn’t actually need his cock at all. He was caught up in a maelstrom of intense sensation, a fucking firestorm buffeting his body, and the pressure built and built until it was too much, too good, and he blew apart, his asshole clenching in hard pulses around the dense girth of Beka’s cock. He let out a wail that sharpened into a scream as his whole body shook and Beka tore through him.

When Yuri was aware of himself in the world again, aware of Beka with and within him, he was dazed and tentatively proud of himself. His whole body was throbbing. His throat was slightly raw. His skin was sheened with sweat. His asshole felt pleasantly abused. It wasn’t exactly comparable to learning a new jump, but he’d definitely had an experience and had come through it with new skills.

He felt like an adult now, like he’d grown the fuck up.

“Kotik, are you all right?” Beka was kissing his face, his eyelids and nose, the arc of each cheekbone. “Was that okay?” He wasn’t moving, but his big dick still throbbed in Yuri’s ass.

Yuri smiled up at him and touched his, brow, his cheekbone, his jaw. “Why did you stop?”

“I wasn't sure…” Beka laughed and nuzzled Yuri’s neck. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He twisted his hips, pushing his cock deeper into Yuri’s ass. “But you seem good.”

“Keep going,” Yuri urged, drawing his knees up higher. “I want you to come too.” Yuri also wondered if he could come again, this time with his cock.

Beka pulled his cock out to add more lube, and Yuri found that he missed the fullness, even for those few seconds. When Beka pushed his cock back inside it was nothing but pleasurable, nothing but welcome. Yuri felt all the things he’d felt before, but he somehow felt better able to cope with them. He stroked his hard cock and watched Beka put on a sexy, manly show, muscles working under pale gold skin. As Beka fucked him more vigorously, Yuri moaned and growled unselfconsciously; he’d already made so much sex noise that any sounds he made now didn’t even matter, didn’t even count.

Beka bent over him and Yuri lifted his head for a kiss, arms looping around Beka’s neck. Beka’s mouth was molten and slick, their tongues swift and slippery as fish in a river, and Yuri’s whole body was overwhelmed with sensation, numb and buzzing on the verge of orgasm as Beka pumped into him. As before, the fat head of Beka’s cock nudged past Yuri’s prostate and jolted him with a nervous thrill with every stroke, a hail of sparks, hairs standing on end and cock leaking precome.

Beka broke their kiss and sat back on his heels, looking down at Yuri with raw affection, his heart bared. He caressed Yuri’s cheek with a proud, claiming touch, his eyes dark and searching, and no one had ever been so tender with him. Yuri had left off touching his own cock and Beka took it in hand for a few strokes as he thrust into Yuri’s body.

“Show me again how you like it, kotik. Touch your cock for me.”

Yuri used both hands, one moving erratically on his cock, the other reaching past his balls to touch the rim of his hole where it stretched around Beka’s cock, the skin taut and smooth. He spread his fingers around Beka’s shaft and shivered at the feeling of penetration, the awareness of having part of Beka’s body taking up space inside his own. Each thrust in was a rough glide glossing him with pleasure, each pull out a deep drag threatening to turn him inside-out. It felt too good, pure and dirty at once.

The pleasure was building up again, racing toward a peak; he looked up at Beka’s handsome face and their eyes locked.

“Oh Yura,” Beka said, his face and chest flushed, his eyes dark. “I—” He threw his head back and groaned, cock sunk deep inside Yuri’s body as he came. Feeling Beka’s cock jerk inside him was enough to push Yuri over the edge, and he came again with a wail, coming so hard he splashed the bottom of his chin, his jaw, his neck. He’d probably gotten it in his hair, but fuck it, he could wash hair.

Beka murmured something that included Yuri’s name and bent to lick Yuri’s come from his skin. Yuri wanted Beka to stay with him, stay inside him, as long as possible, and wrapped his legs around Beka’s waist. Beka seemed in no mood to separate, feeding Yuri celebratory kisses and holding him tight. Beka looked into Yuri’s eyes and saw him, knew him, and sought the same understanding from him. It was almost unbearable to feel so close to someone, to care so much.

“I knew we’d have good sex because we have such good chemistry,” Beka said, kissing Yuri’s neck, “but I didn’t know it would be _that_ good.”

“Well, it’s not like I have anything to compare it to,” Yuri pointed out, “but I don’t know how that could’ve been any better.”

“Me either, but I also know it actually will get better the more we do it, the more we learn each other’s bodies.”

Beka’s cock had softened and Beka reached down and held onto the condom as he pulled out. Yuri made a little whimper of dismay as Beka withdrew, leaving him empty. Beka tied a knot in the condom and tossed it over the edge of the bed, then stretched out beside Yuri. Yuri rolled onto his side and reached out to smooth Beka’s hair back from his forehead. He was very aware of his asshole. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it felt stretched and a little sore.

“I believe you, but it’s hard to imagine anything better than that,” Yuri said. “Like, would we ascend to a higher plane of existence or something? Because I’ve never felt anything that good until now.”

“We’re very compatible.” Beka ran his hand up and down Yuri’s side, shoulder to hip and back again. “You’re small, and I was worried my dick would just be too big.”

“So was I.” Yuri admitted. “But it’s great. Perfect. I didn’t know my body would even do that. I’ve never come that hard before.”

“You looked so sexy doing it,” Beka assured him. “I loved hearing your voice like that.”

“So you’ve really never done this before? With a guy? Not even once?” Yuri was slightly unbelieving.

Beka laughed. “No, I told you, I’ve never had sex with a guy before. I’d never wanted to. But when we met again in Barcelona, I started wondering about it.”

“You liked me in Barcelona?”

“Yeah, a little bit. And then a little more each time I met you. I planned to tell you how I felt on your birthday, but you were drunk and then I chickened out.”

Boldly, Yuri blurted, “What were you going to tell me?”

“What?”

“On my birthday. What were you going to tell me?”

Beka’s cheeks pinked and he offered Yuri a shy smile. “I was going to tell you I love you.”

But Beka actually had told Yuri he loved him, and Yuri had assumed agape, not eros. But now it seemed Beka didn’t think he’d shared his feelings fully. Did that mean his feelings went deeper? Did Beka love him as a very close friend with a great benefits package, or was Beka in love with him, as in forever? Yuri wanted Beka to be in love with him, but he wouldn’t jump to conclusions. For all he knew, Beka was going to go back to Almaty to date another girl. Maybe—

“I was going to ask you something too,” Beka said. “I guess I can ask you now.”

“Ask me what?”

“It’s pretty simple. Do you want to be my boyfriend or not?”

Yuri froze, mortified and delighted at once, desperate to seem cool but wanting to squeal and jump up and down. He didn’t trust himself to speak, but he couldn’t just lie here and make Beka wait for an answer.

“Baka,” he said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Baka, obviously I want to be your boyfriend.”

Beka beamed at him. “That’s great. I’m really glad, kotik.”

“Are you in love with me?” Yuri’s voice was loud, rushed, and he was immediately embarrassed.

“Didn’t I just say so?”

“No, not exactly.”

“No? Okay, let me be clear: I’m in love with you. I want to be with you. I think about you all the time. I want to share everything with you. I want to go back to Almaty with a picture of you smiling and tell everyone ‘That’s my boyfriend. We’re in love.’ So can I say that?”

“Huh?”

“Are you in love with me or not?”

Yuri’s face was hot as he said, “Of course I’m in love with you!”

“We’re lucky then,” Beka said. “We’re in the same place, at the same time, liking each other the most.” He pulled Yuri close, halfway on top of him, and kissed his nose. “I have to go back to Almaty—”

“Ugh, I don’t want to think about it.” Yuri buried his face against Beka’s neck, determined to be in denial.

“No, listen. I have to go back, but I don’t have to stay there. Would you want me to come to St. Petersburg?”

“For a visit?” Yuri perked up. He shifted a little, settling firmly on top of Beka.

“Yeah, but I was thinking I could stay for awhile. Rent an apartment, maybe train with you…” Beka’s voice trailed off and then he added. “Whatever you’d want to do.”

Hearing Beka’s proposal, Yuri was flush with happiness, full of brightness. “Seriously? You could do that? That would be amazing!”

“I’ve been discussing it with my dad and my other sponsors for awhile,” Beka admitted. “I didn’t want to talk to you about it until I knew it could work out.”

Beka was lucky. Although Kazakhstan didn’t have the kind of state sports programs Russia had, Beka’s dad was an executive at a gas company and made a lot of money, and Beka had other deep-pockets sponsors in Kazakhstan. Beka was, after all, the Hero of Kazakhstan, and people were eager to support him.

“My main reason for wanting to be in St. Petersburg is to be with you, but it’d be better for my skating too. Yakov is the best coach, and if I was training with him, I’d have the best skaters in the world as my rink mates.”

“Have you talked to Yakov?”

“Yeah. He’s willing to take me on.” Beka ran his hands over Yuri’s back and ass and pressed kisses along his hairline. “So, what do you say?”

“To what?”

“Do you want me to come to St. Petersburg?”

Yuri reared back and gave Beka a contemptuous glare. “Baka! Seriously? Of course I want that! Why do you even need to ask?”

“Because I can’t read your mind, baka. Because some things I can’t decide for you, even if I want to.”

“Whatever.” Yuri considered this a moment, then asked, “What are you willing to decide for me?” He liked the idea of Beka making choices for him.

“Hmm?” Beka was exploring the cleft of Yuri’s ass, leisurely probing and stroking, and it tickled, but it wasn’t the kind of tickling Yuri minded. It was making him hard. He wanted Beka to keep doing it until it didn’t tickle any more.

“What are you willing to decide for me?”

Beka considered this while he teased Yuri’s hole with a gentle finger. “Hmm…if I was in line at a coffee shop and you were finding us a table and I didn’t know what you wanted, I’d just get you the kind of cookie I wanted to eat.”

“Do you know what kind of coffee I want?” Yuri spread his legs further apart. He’d felt a nudge that he thought was Beka’s cock, hard again.

Beka scoffed at this with a slightly wounded do-not-doubt-me frown. “Double mocha, extra chocolate syrup, extra whip.”

“See?” Yuri was way happier than a memorized coffee order warranted. “You totally know what I want.”

“Yeah, a melted candy bar pretending to be coffee.” Beka stopped massaging Yuri’s hole, brought his hand to his mouth, and wet his finger before resuming his exploration. “How are you feeling?”

“Huh?”

“Your body. I want to have sex again, but if it’s too much for your body, we don’t have to fuck.”

“It’s not too much!” Yuri’s dick was instantly at full hardness, tingling and hopeful.

“No? All right then, do you want to be on top?”

Yuri frowned. “Do you mean fucking you? Or riding your dick?”

Beka laughed. “Whichever you want, I guess.”

Yuri was definitely not willing to pass up a turn having Beka’s cock in his ass. "I really don't care if I ever fuck you," he admitted, pushing himself up to sit straddling Beka's waist. "Someday I should try it just to say I have—"

"I'd like to try being on the receiving end sometime," Beka admitted. "But there's no rush."

Yuri reached back and squeezed Beka’s fantastic cock. “Where are the condoms?”

Twenty minutes later, the muscles in his thighs standing out like sculpture, his fingers interlaced with Beka’s to steady himself, Yuri’s rocking hips shuddered to stillness as the pressure on his prostate made him come without touching his cock, which jerked out ribbons of cream onto Beka’s chest and neck. He was loud, so loud, making these keening groans that probably should’ve embarrassed him, but instead he was proud, proud that Beka made him feel so good. Not everyone had a perfect lover with a magic dick, and all the people within earshot should be envious.

Beka came too, looking at Yuri like he was the best thing in the world, in every category, and Yuri really didn’t know what he could have done to make Beka like him so much, but he wouldn’t argue about it.

Afterward, Yuri lay down on Beka’s chest to catch his breath while Beka’s dick softened in his ass.

“We have an exhibition to skate tomorrow,” Beka said with a hint of dread, as if just remembering.

“Oh yeah.” Yuri didn’t care right now. If he just went out to the center of the ice and yelled _Beka fucked me last night!_ that would make the Yuri’s Angels happier than any routine.

“Do you want to sleep here with me?”

Yuri scoffed at this, thinking it obvious. “Baka, of course. I don’t have a toothbrush though, so my breath will be fucking gross.”

Beka laughed and petted his back. “I’m looking forward to experiencing your morning breath.”

Yuri laughed too. “Do you really like everything about me?”

Beka shrugged, awkward to do lying on his back. “So far.” He reached down and around and pulled his softening cock and its condom out of Yuri’s ass. “You want a shower before we sleep?”

Half an hour later, damp hair spread across his pillow, Yuri relaxed back into the curve of Beka’s body, soothed by his warmth and steady breath. He was tired but fought sleep, not wanting this day to end, superstitiously worried that he’d wake up and it wouldn’t have been true after all.

He loved Beka so much. So. Fucking Much.

And, for whatever reason, Beka loved him. Enough to leave his old life and start a new one with Yuri. That actually put a lot of pressure on Yuri to not be an insufferable dick, to be a cooperative partner, to be a better self. It was a terrifying prospect, to be honest, but for Beka he could try.

Figure skating was his job. He knew he’d be involved with figure skating his entire life. He’d compete until he wasn’t competitive any more, and then he’d coach, and then he’d find some other way to be relevant. He’d always have skating, and he was confident he would always do well in whatever capacity he happened to serve.

But now he had a more important job. For the rest of his life, in addition to whatever figure skating work he had to do, he would be doing everything necessary to make sure he was someone Beka could love.

He was going to be a fucking amazing boyfriend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russia's National Cat Day is March 1, Yuri's birthday.


	2. 21, 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri gets what he wants, but not necessarily when he wants it. 
> 
> Commitment. Claiming. Collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breathplay and choking are DANGEROUS. DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME. Just don't.

Sara Crispino was attending Worlds with her two top skaters, a boy from Ukraine and a girl from France. Yuri had waved a hello to her in the hotel lobby, but hadn’t spoke with her otherwise. Mila had kept him up to date on Sara’s life so he didn’t feel like he actually had anything he needed to talk to her about.

At the rink, while the Ukrainian boy was skating through his short program, Sara glanced between the boy on the ice and her phone, occasionally poking at the screen. She watched the boy do a quad toe loop and called out _Perfect, Pavlo!_

As Pavlo skated to the break in the boards, Sara noticed Yuri and Beka sitting together and broke out in a genuine smile.

“Yuri! Beka! How are you?”

They all kissed each other’s cheeks. Pavlo joined them and was hugged by Sara. Beka had nice things to say about young Pavlo’s skating and Yuri added a few _yeahs_ here and there.

Sara asked, “You two are still boyfriends, right?”

Yuri was torn between telling her it was none of her business and expressing outrage that she’d think otherwise, but Beka spoke first.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, and Yuri felt a sudden irrational pang of fear.

“Not just boyfriends,” Beka continued, offering Sara one of his rare public smiles. “Future husbands.”

Sara laughed, delighted.

It wasn’t a joke. Furious, Yuri snapped, “Don’t tell her that, baka!” Then, embarrassed by his outburst, he made himself seem busy pawing through the contents of his skate bag until his hot face cooled.

Later at the hotel, he quietly seethed, sulking and shooting Beka sharp glares as he stalked around the room. Beka was unperturbed, which pissed Yuri off.

“Why are you so fucking calm?” Yuri demanded.

Beka smiled, warm and tolerant. Fuck his tolerance!

“Sourpuss.” Beka was sprawled in the room’s only armchair. “Come sit on my lap.” He patted his thigh in invitation.

It was tempting, but Yuri wasn’t done being angry. Beka shouldn’t make light of what they shared.

“Why are you unhappy, kotik? Tell me what's wrong. Give me a chance to make it better."

Yuri didn't want to say. He didn't want to look weak. Vulnerable.

Beka rubbed his thigh and Yuri knew how good it would feel to sit there and lean against Beka’s chest. He could probably lean and be angry at the same time.

"Yura, please. Are you gonna sit with me or not?”

Yuri rolled his eyes and lowered himself onto Beka's lap as if doing him a favor. He sat stiffly upright, scowling and disdainful.

Beka laughed, which was fucking condescending, and then put his arms around Yuri, so Yuri glared at him and squirmed out of his embrace.

Now Beka scowled too. “You can’t be a brat without at least letting me know why.”

Yuri crossed his arms over his chest and turned away, delivering his next words to the room in general in a haughty tone.

“You can’t make jokes about marrying me.”

It meant too much. He wanted it too much.

Beka laughed again, but gently. “Oh Yurochka, I would never joke about that.”

“But you told Sara—”

“I told her the truth, didn’t I?”

Yuri was suddenly overwhelmed by the significance of Beka’s words, eyes wide, mouth open around a meek _oh_. But he recovered quickly, angry anew.

“Is that how you’re gonna propose to me, asshole? You mention it to someone else and I’m supposed to take it seriously?”

Beka bowed his head in contrition though he was smiling. “Well, it’s not how I planned to do it. I’m sorry.”

“You had a plan?”

“It wasn’t entirely worked out. But it would’ve been more romantic than this.” Beka put his arms around Yuri once again, and this time Yuri let himself be drawn down to lie against Beka’s chest. “I’ll make a better proposal, I promise. I’ll surprise you one day.”

Yuri pressed his face against Beka’s neck. His voice was muffled when he said, “Baka. I’m too young to get married anyway.” He was only 21, Beka 23. They were basically idiot children.

“We’re both young,” Beka agreed. He rubbed Yuri’s back and shifted beneath his slight weight; while Yuri still mostly regretted that he’d stayed so small, he liked that he fit on Beka’s lap. He liked that Beka could pick him up and do whatever he wanted with him.

“I’ve only ever been with you,” Yuri pointed out sullenly. “Maybe I want to date someone else.”

Beka squeezed him more tightly and kissed his hair. “Do you really want to do that?”

Yuri was quiet a moment before he spoke. “No,” he admitted. “I just want you.”

“You have me.” Another kiss. “For as long as you want.”

“Always.” Yuri clung to Beka. “I’ll never let you go.” He was suddenly almost teary with remorse, so sorry he’d doubted Beka, sorry he’d sulked, sorry he’d even pretended he could want another lover.

“I’m lucky,” Beka said. “The person I love most loves me back.”

“Yeah?” Yuri sniffed, his eyes wet, but he definitely wasn’t crying.

“He’s fucking crazy about me,” Beka said, kissing Yuri’s forehead.

“How crazy?” Yuri asked suspiciously, afraid it would be an unacceptable amount.

“Crazy-brilliant and super-talented. Proud and honorable, and always does his best, no matter what. Sexiest man alive.”

“He sounds amazing,” Yuri said. “You should lock him down while you still can.”

“I don’t know…” Beka mused. “He might be too young to get married.” He snickered and gave Yuri a squeeze.

“Baka,” Yuri muttered, sniffing again.

“He’s the love of my life though,” Beka said. “I want to be with him forever.”

Yuri considered this a few careful seconds. “He probably feels the same way. You’re really good to him. You’re perfect.”

“What should I do?” Beka kissed Yuri’s head, neat little pecks along his crooked part. “I really love him the most.”

Yuri was very tentative in offering his suggestion. “Maybe he’s not too young to get married,” he said, despite having asserted the opposite. “Maybe he’d feel more secure if you really belonged to each other.” His face was burning and he was horrified he was saying these embarrassing emotional things but he couldn’t shut up.

“Yeah?” Beka tried to turn Yuri’s face with a hand on his chin, but Yuri didn’t want to be moved. “Hey, look at me, kotik.” Beka waited until Yuri reluctantly turned and made grudging eye contact. Beka smiled. “You seem to have good insight into his feelings. I’ll think about what you’ve said”

Yuri’s face grew hotter still. “You should do whatever you want,” he insisted. “You don’t have to listen to me.”

Beka held him close, very gently, and nuzzled the hair at his temple. “I always do what I want, and that always includes listening to you.”

“I don’t want to push you into—”

“Shh.” Beka smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “You can’t push me where I don’t want to go. You’ve given me something to think about.”

~o0o~

Yuri sat scowling and furious at Beka’s side in first class. Beka had bought them champagne but Yuri refused to drink it. He was anxious and wound up, and it was coming out as childish pissiness, and he didn’t even know why he was having a fucking crisis.

Until they’d left their apartment to get in a cab to the airport, Yuri hadn’t known where they were flying. Four days ago, Beka had told him he was taking him on a surprise trip, that the destination itself was a surprise, and Yuri had agreed to go along with it, but reluctantly. He’d asked Victor and Katsudon if they knew where Beka was taking him, and they did, but they wouldn’t tell him, which led to a fight where he hurt Katsudon’s feelings. Then Katsudon had to calm Victor down so he wouldn’t kill Yuri, Victor had called Beka to complain about Yuri’s manners, and Beka had been disappointed in him. Again.

Sometimes it felt like he did nothing but disappoint Beka, who was smart and calm and reasonable, whereas he was none of those things.

Beka had told him to pack for warm weather, warmer than their St. Petersburg July, so he’d irritably crammed a suitcase full of shorts and t-shirts. He’d forgotten to pack anything dressy, so if Beka wanted to take him out to eat, it would have to be somewhere he could show off his battered skater feet in flip-flops.

Of course he’d found out they were going to Barcelona when Beka gave him his ticket, and their destination had been on the signboard at the gate, and the steward had announced it over the PA on the plane, but Yuri still didn’t know why they were going to Barcelona. He had some ideas, but he was unwilling to get too invested in any of them lest they turn out not to be true. For him, Barcelona was a romantic memory, the beginning of everything, and he thought it was the same for Beka.

So why was he so nervous? After all, he didn’t really think Beka was taking him all the way to Spain to break up with him.

Beka reached over and picked Yuri’s hand up off the arm rest, and Yuri resisted the urge to snatch it back. He loved holding hands with Beka, so he should just do it and stop being a fucking child.

“I got some phenazepam from Lilia,” Beka said in a low voice.

“What for?” Yuri snapped.

“Just if you want some help relaxing. You don’t have to take it, but we’ll be flying about four hours.”

Yuri initially chose to view this offer as cynically as possible. Beka was essentially offering him an anti-bitch pill that would shut him up until they got to Barcelona. But as soon as he’d decided this, he knew he wasn’t being fair. Beka didn’t ever think in terms of shutting him up. Beka didn’t ever find him annoying, even when anyone else would. Beka was just trying to take care of him and give him what he needed.

He asked, "Are you taking any?"

"No, you know flying doesn't make me nervous like it makes you."

"Baka, I'm not nervous!"

Beka sighed, exasperated. "Do you want a pill or not, kotik?"

“Fine, I want one." Yuri held his hand out expectantly.

Beka pulled a bottle with a few pills rattling around out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Yuri swallowed the pill with some of the champagne he’d refused to drink before. He felt a little calmer already.

Beka put his hand on Yuri’s cheek and looked into his eyes. “Yura. I love you. Thank you for taking this trip with me.”

Yuri looked away, then jerked his chin out of Beka’s hand. “Baka, of course I’ll take a trip with you.” He gulped a little more champagne. “I love you too. I love you the most.”

He sounded so angry about it though.

The pill did make him sleepy and he rested his head on Beka’s shoulder. Whatever they were doing in Barcelona, whatever Beka had planned, it would be something Beka believed he’d enjoy, and he should at least appreciate that Beka would go to such lengths for him.

People were always telling Yuri how lucky he was that Beka was so devoted and concerned with his happiness. People also implied that Yuri should appreciate Beka more and be nicer to him, that a superior person like Beka could easily find a kinder, more generous partner than Yuri, and they probably weren’t wrong. Yuri suspected that all he was good for was sex, even though Beka gave every indication of liking everything else about him too.

They had such good sex though. Not that Yuri knew any other sex at all, but he’d heard and overheard things from other people that made him feel like he was the luckiest, even luckier than Victor and Katsudon, who swanned around acting like the Perfect Gays™, total know-it-alls who were always trying to give Yuri relationship advice.

It hadn’t escaped his notice they didn’t seem to think Beka needed advice.

Yuri had never had another lover, and Beka had never been with another man. Before getting together with Yuri, Beka had had a lot of casual girlfriends, but none lasting more than a few months. Because Yuri asked, Beka admitted his big dick had been a problem for some girls, a draw for others. He agreed it wasn’t really the kind of dick anyone could feel neutral about. He was firm that he hadn’t liked sex with any girl more than he liked sex with Yuri. He said there was no comparison, that Yuri was what he wanted.

Beka had fallen in love with Yuri before Yuri had even understood he had the option of loving Beka, but Beka had never pointed out that this proved Yuri was an idiot, a fucking baka. But it did. Yuri should have figured it out years earlier.

In the four months since Worlds and their conversation about marriage, Yuri had wondered often if Beka was really going to propose to him, and had then waited impatiently for him to do it. He’d wanted to be prepared, mentally rehearsing his joyous acceptance, because he’d definitely accept, but the question never came.

He’d tried to remind himself that they’d only been a couple for three years, and lots of people dated longer than that before they got engaged. But he didn’t give a fuck about other people and their timelines.

He’d done his best to be patient, but his best really wasn’t very good, to be honest, and he’d been kind of a dick for four disappointed months now.

But now they were heading to Barcelona, the place where their love began, and this was probably it. This was probably where he’d get what he’d been wanting all this time.

So why was he so fucking scared?

~o0o~

Even though Victor had made it abundantly clear he wanted to be Yuri’s gay confidant, Yuri had never wanted to talk to him about Beka. But he’d needed to talk to someone, if only to brag, and he’d finally opened up to Mila in the hotel bar at Worlds two years ago, his and Beka’s first dating anniversary.

“His dick is so fucking big,” he’d told her after his third glass of wine. “Not that I’ve ever had a different one, but I don’t think I’d be happy with anything less. It’s fucking perfect, like art or something.”

“Wait, just how big is it?” Mila had asked eagerly, leaning in.

He’d shown her with his hands, taking care not to exaggerate, wanting her to know how truly lucky he was.

“Wow,” she’d said. “That’s more than enough. I don’t think I could handle that, to be honest.” She’d considered it a moment. “Maybe if someone dared me.” She’d narrowed her eyes, evaluating him. “You’re awfully small, period, much less for a dick like that.”

“I’m really only good for two things,” he’d told her. “Quad jumps and taking a dick like a fucking champ.”

Mila had laughed. “It’s hysterical that you’re such a size queen, but I think all you little twinks are.”

Yuri hadn’t appreciated being called a twink, but there really wasn’t a better word for what he was, and a glance in a mirror would quickly prove the label accurate.

Some people, Yuri included, considered twinks lesser men. Beka didn’t share that opinion. Beka loved every twinky thing about Yuri: his midget stature; his sleek little body; his handsome fairy face. Beka loved picking him up, manhandling him, fucking the shit out of him and making him beg and scream, but never sneered at him for liking a dick up his ass. Beka never shamed him for being a filthy little bottom boy. Rather, Beka praised him for his strength and determination, for his ability to take a cock, for his vulnerability. Beka saw these qualities as decidedly manly; Beka saw Yuri as legitimately masculine, every bit the equal of himself, whereas others just saw short-and-cute and dismissed Yuri as a frivolous, girlish child. If for no other reason, Yuri would love Beka forever for taking him seriously as a man.

Beka was wrong about them being equals though. Beka was noble, honorable, gallant, kind, generous…everything good and admirable and gentlemanly, plus he was hot as fuck. Yuri was also hot as fuck, but all his supposed good qualities were actually just a show he was putting on to trick Beka into liking him.

After sobering up from his oversharing afternoon with Mila, Yuri had been mortified that he’d practically drawn her a picture of Beka’s dick and had worried she’d tell everyone, but she’d been a good friend and kept the salacious details to herself. Of course, she’d expected more oversharing after that, and wanted to overshare in return, and now they were good friends who told each other everything.

After these most recent Worlds in March, he’d told Mila that he was waiting impatiently for Beka to propose, and she’d been confident Beka would do it when he felt the time was right.

“He knows he has the right guy,” she’d said. “It’s obvious every time he looks at you.”

“Maybe he’s hesitating because he’s not sure he’s done with women then,” Yuri had mused, sipping his wine.

“Maybe you’re just looking for things to get upset about,” she’d said, losing patience. “He doesn’t look at women or men or anyone but you, baka.”

“Did I ever give you permission to say _baka_?” Yuri had only been partly joking.

Mila had been amused and defiant. “You don’t own _baka_. Japan does. I don’t need your permission. Baka.”

Mila wasn’t the only person who’d adopted _baka_ over the years. Everyone at the rink said it now. Everyone except Katsudon, who pushed his glasses up his nose and looked exasperated whenever Victor said it.

Today while they’d waited for the cab to the airport, Yuri had texted Mila _going to barcelona. think this is it. freaking out_ but she hadn’t replied before he’d had to shut down his phone on the plane.

He was going to have to handle this on his own.

~o0o~

Yuri woke up blinking and yawning, feeling rested and cared-for, Beka’s arm around his shoulders.

“Kotik. You’re awake.” Beka kissed his forehead and gave him a squeeze. “It’s good timing. We’re just about to land.”

When they got off the plane, Beka steered him toward Baggage Claim.

“But we have our bags,” Yuri said, uncomprehending.

“Yes, but the cars are down by Baggage Claim. Come on. You’ll see.”

At Baggage Claim, there was a limo driver holding up a sign that said ALTIN/PLISETSKY, with the SKY kind of smushed into the space of a single letter near the edge of the sign.

So. A limo.

Beka conferred briefly with the driver, accepted a key from him, and offered him the handle of his rolling bag.

“Yura, give him your suitcase.”

“Huh?”

“He’ll take the suitcases to the hotel for us. We’re not going in the car.”

So. Not a limo.

"Our ride is in the garage," Beka explained, reaching for Yuri's hand. "Come on!" He tugged Yuri's hand, but Yuri hesitated. Beka laughed. "Kotik, are you coming with me or not?" He offered Yuri a wide smile, purely happy. As they walked toward the garage, Beka said, "I'm excited!" and radiated happy energy.

Yuri was excited too, but his excitement was more like panic.

There was a motorcycle waiting for them in the garage, shiny and black, the same model Beka had at home in St. Petersburg but newer. Now Yuri understood why Beka had been very firm that he wear jeans, a jacket and substantial shoes. There were helmets strapped to the bike and Beka examined these carefully for scratches or dents before offering one to Yuri.

Yuri didn’t have Beka’s facility with maps and street grids, and he’d never learned much about Barcelona in the first place, so he had no idea where they were, but he assumed they were heading into the city. He held on tight to Beka, who was driving very carefully, in part because they didn’t have any real protective gear.

It had been nearly six years, so Yuri couldn’t be sure, but the passing scenery was starting to look familiar. Familiar-ish. Beka took a hand off the handlebars and briefly squeezed Yuri’s hand where it was holding on at his waist.

They were definitely in downtown Barcelona now, and Beka seemed to have a specific destination in mind, changing lanes and making turns with purpose. They passed by the hotel they’d all stayed at during the Grand Prix Final, and suddenly things clicked into place and Yuri had his bearings.

They crossed three streets, turned right, and then turned left into an alley halfway down the block. Beka cut his speed and they rolled to a stop by an alcove at the back of one of the buildings, the bike idling beneath them.

“Do you remember? This is where I caught up to you,” Beka said. “I was hoping for an opportunity to talk to you, but it was even better to have the chance to rescue you.”

Yuri remembered standing in the grungy alcove with his heart pounding, trying to catch his breath after running from those creepy Yuri’s Angels who were not going to leave him alone. And then he’d heard the purr of an engine and Beka had rolled to a stop beside him and offered him a badass way out.

_Are you coming or not?_

“I think I’ve told you…” Beka said, “That day, I was basically stalking you. The Yuri’s Angels girls broke up into three smaller groups to find you and I rode around spying on them and keeping track, and I checked all the alleys near where they were searching. You were in the fourth alley I drove through.”

Yuri laughed. “Why were you stalking me?” He’d heard this story before, and Beka knew it, but Yuri liked hearing it again here, where it had happened.

"I was really determined to be your friend. I wanted to become friends with you before I even got to Barcelona. But when you called me an asshole in the hotel lobby, I fell a little bit in love.”

“You did not!” But Yuri believed him, because the feeling had been mutual.

“A little bit. Like a stronger friendship feeling. Like when you think, ‘Oh my friend is so handsome!’ That kind of love.”

“I felt the same,” Yuri admitted. “I’ve always thought you were the coolest guy in the world.”

“The entire world?” Beka was amused and unbelieving.

“I dunno. Maybe just the northern hemisphere? But super fucking cool.” There was something about sharing these stories again in the place where they’d happened that made them special again. He wrapped his arms around Beka’s waist and hugged him hard.

Beka leaned back in his arms, a kind of return hug. “Shall we move on?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Yuri thought he knew where they were going, and he was right. At Parc Güell, Beka parked the bike in an empty spot in a long line of bikes and lashed their helmets down on the fender rack with a cargo net.

“It’s a bit of a walk, if you remember,” Beka said. “You up for it?”

Yuri snorted, disdainful and amused. “I’m a world-class athlete. I can walk up some stairs.”

Beka slung his arm around Yuri’s shoulders and Yuri slipped his arm around Beka’s waist as they climbed. They passed a pair of women heading down and Yuri heard one say to the other _Look, look, it’s Plisetsky and Altin!_ in a loud whisper, trying to point discreetly at him and Beka. Skating fans. He was grateful they hadn’t stopped them for autographs.

Giddiness came over him in waves. He was almost certain Beka would propose to him up on the mosaic terrace overlooking the city, and he knew what he’d say if he did, but it seemed unreal, like every step was leading him further into a dream and further away from a place where he could actually be anyone’s husband.

They were really young.

Yuri wasn’t going to let himself care. He wanted Beka for his own even if he didn’t deserve him. Which he didn’t. Which was why he was so scared. Because surely it was just a matter of time until Beka recognized that he was too good for a surly little edgelord like Yuri and cut all ties.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Beka said. “It was cold when we were here before.”

“The Christmas lights were pretty though.”

“We’ll probably never be back at Christmas unless there’s a competition here,” Beka noted.

Neither of them had grown up with a Christmas tradition, but it seemed so shiny and magical from the outside, all the presents and glitter. That was what appealed to Yuri, anyway. Maybe he and Beka should try celebrating the holiday, just the two of them.

“We could try having Christmas at home,” Yuri suggested.

Beka laughed softly. “You want presents, don’t you? Sure, it’d be fun. But wait—won’t you have Nationals?”

“Ugh, probably.” Yuri deflated a little, his spangled holiday plans collapsing.

“We can do Christmas in a hotel room,” Beka decided. “We’ll just have to bring a little extra luggage.”

They came to the top of the stairs and the wide terrace with the mosaic bench-wall that had a view of the city. There were dozens of people milling about, posing for photos and taking shots of the view.

“Over here.” Beka took Yuri’s hand and led him through the crowd. He stopped a few meters from the wall and surveyed the mosaic patterns. “I think it was here.” He led Yuri to a spot by the wall and peered out over the city. “Does this seem like the right place to you?”

Yuri wished he remembered more of the details. He mostly remembered handsome young Beka in the light of the setting sun, thinking that Beka was the coolest guy he’d ever met, and wanting Beka to be his friend. He remembered feeling honored when Beka had asked for his friendship, being speechless when Beka shook his hand to seal their bond.

_Are you gonna become friends with me or not?_

Yuri looked out over Barcelona. He had no idea if they were in the right spot or even close. “I think this is about right.”

Beka was quiet awhile, then asked, “Do you know why we’re here?”

“I think so.” Yuri was suddenly breathless, his voice thin.

“That you came with me…I hope it means we want the same thing.”

“I…” He had no idea what to say.

“Well, why don’t I do what I came here to do.” Beka took a deep breath and reached into his jacket pocket, and when he took his hand out, he held something in a loose fist.

Beka smiled at Yuri and he was radiant. “Yura. My kotik. I have an important question for you.”

“Oh.” Yuri began to tremble. “Oh god.”

Beka got down on one knee, and he was a prince, a hero, and his smile was a beacon of reassurance and love. Yuri was dimly aware that people all around were looking, attracted to their energy, curious and wanting to be involved.

Beka took Yuri’s right hand and kissed it, first the back and then the palm. He held his closed hand over Yuri’s open palm, and as he opened his fingers, he asked,

“Yuri Plisetsky, will you be my husband?”

There was a ring on Yuri’s palm, a simple wide band, white gold or maybe platinum, with a tiny inset diamond, cool and edgy and not girlish at all. He stared open-mouthed, not quite believing it was actually for him. His hands were shaking so hard he couldn’t get the ring on his finger. Beka made soothing shushes and slipped it onto his finger for him. It fit perfectly.

“It’s beautiful.” His voice cracked.

Oh fuck. He was crying.

This was so not cool.

Beka got to his feet and put his arms around Yuri, sheltering and comforting, and stroked his hair. “Kotik, kotik, I hope this means you’re happy.”

Yuri was happy, so fucking happy, but also terrified. He felt exposed, as if pinned down at center ice under a harsh spotlight, all his flaws on display. He felt a sharp pang of fear, certain that Beka would realize he was wrong about Yuri and take back the ring.

But that fear passed quickly. Yuri was salty as fuck, selfish, arrogant, thoughtless, careless, and otherwise trash, but Beka knew all of this already and obviously didn’t care. Beka liked Yuri’s garbage personality. Beka knew what he was getting into.

Yuri’s worries were just mindfuck bullshit. He and Beka would do great: they communicated, they had the best possible sex, they loved each other the most.

Yuri gave a tremulous wet sniff and held Beka tighter to show that yes, he was happy.

Beka tilted Yuri’s chin up and looked down at his tear-streaked face. “Yura, I love you so much. You’re my dream. I—”

“What did he say?” A very loud whisper from the gathered crowd. “Did he say yes?”

Beka laughed, wiping away Yuri’s tears with his thumb. “That’s right, kotik. You didn’t say. Are you gonna marry me or not?”

Hot with mortification, Yuri wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and scornfully snapped, “Baka! Of course I’ll marry you! Why would you think any different?”

This was not the gracious acceptance Yuri had been planning all these months.

“I was almost sure you’d say yes,” Beka said with a grin, “but there was always a chance you’d say no.”

Yuri scoffed at this. “I never would’ve said no!”

Goddamn it. He was fucking crying again.

All around them, strangers were clapping and cheering, offering congratulations. Beka drew Yuri close and Yuri pressed his face against Beka’s t-shirt, eyes closed, breathing him in. He let Beka protect him, let Beka take over.

Someone said _You’re those figure skaters, aren’t you?_ and Beka said _Yes we are_. Someone else said _Oh are they famous? How cool!_ and someone else offered to send Beka the pictures they’d taken, and then Beka was looking at a stranger’s phone over Yuri’s shoulder, rubbing circles on Yuri’s back, saying _Yes, I’d love them. You’re so kind,_ and giving his email address, but just the one for the junk account.

And then it was just them for a moment, and Beka said, “I have to kiss you, it’s wrong I haven’t kissed you yet,” and bent down and gave him a kiss that knocked him off his feet, weak in the knees and whimpering like a bitch while Beka held him upright. There was applause; people were still gawking and clapping.

Beka laughed, his forehead pressed against Yuri’s. “Let’s get out of here, eh, kotik? There’s another place I want to take you. I want to finish our date.”

They walked back to the bike, Yuri in a daze. He felt so happy, but also unbelieving that he was so easily getting what he wanted. He held his hand out in front of him and admired his beautiful, understated, badass ring, and wondered what kind of ring he should get for Beka. Should they match?

“I’m glad we were able to come here,” Beka said. “It was important to me to propose to you this week.”

“Because of the ice shows?”

They and all the rest of the seniors at the rink had just finished an Eastern European tour and were starting on a tour of Western Europe in two weeks.

“No, not that. Maybe you don’t remember, but this is the week of Yakov’s summer camp. We met for the first time eleven years ago this week.”

“We did?” Yuri believed him, but he was surprised. Yakov’s camp was in August now.

“I wanted to bring you here to propose, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to bring you here in December because of the skating calendar, so this was my compromise.”

Yuri thought he might cry again. Beka was so fucking good to him.

And this was why Beka had waited to ask. He was making it fucking meaningful. Yuri should have known Beka would do right by him—he always did.

“I didn’t remember,” Yuri admitted. “But I’m glad you did. It means a lot.”

Beka took him downtown, to the café where they’d sat across from each other and sipped tea and he’d seen Beka smile for the first time.

Today they were sitting at what they both believed was the table they’d sat at that long-ago afternoon, each with a steaming cup of tea. Beka held Yuri’s right hand on the tabletop between both of his own, clearly not interested in drinking tea.

“Back then, I wouldn’t have ever imagined I’d be sitting here one day with you as my fiancé”

“No?” Yuri wouldn’t have imagined it either.

Beka smiled. “No. I was having very surprising thoughts about kissing you but I hadn’t gotten any further than that. I wasn’t planning a life together.”

 _Planning a life together_. Those words repeated in Yuri’s head, over and over, intimidating and scary. But it wasn’t scary, not really. They’d been doing it already for three years, and Yuri had been fully committed to it, but now it was official. He was going to be a husband.

 _Husband!_ The word gave him a thrill.

“The ring looks good on your hand,” Beka said, rotating it around Yuri’s finger to one side and then the other. “I think you like it.” He smiled, bright and quick, playful and teasing.

Yuri smiled too, feeling his face flush. “Baka. I love it. It’s perfect.”

“A man’s ring with just a little sparkle.” He brought Yuri’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. “The diamond is tiny, but it’s perfect.” He grinned at Yuri. “Like you.”

Yuri blushed hot and groaned at Beka’s corny flirtation.

Beka kissed Yuri’s hand again, a lingering press of his lips. “How would you feel about going to the hotel and ordering room service?”

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to dinner,” Yuri said, “so we actually don’t have much choice.”

“Hmm…Beka looked him over with a satisfied smile, as if he liked what he saw. “So are you saying you’ll have to eat your dinner naked?”

Yuri laughed again. “I could be saying that.”

Beka let go of Yuri’s hand. “I think I’m done with my tea. Are you ready?”

They were staying at the Princess, of course, the Grand Prix hotel. Their bags were waiting for them when they checked in. Beka had his arm around Yuri’s shoulders, keeping him close. As he handed over his credit card, he proudly told the desk clerk, “He’s just agreed to marry me. This is the happiest day of my life.” He bent to kiss the top of Yuri’s head.

She seemed genuinely happy for them. “Oh, that’s great! Congratulations to both of you!”

“You’re the first person we’ve told.” Beka obviously wasn’t counting all the strangers at the park.

“In that case, I’m honored.” She typed and frowned at her screen before handing Beka the key cards with a smile. “Enjoy your stay.”

Up in their room, they fell on the bed and made out while they took off their clothes. Yuri was completely naked but Beka was still in his jeans when someone knocked at the door.

“Shit.” Beka sat up and gave Yuri’s hard dick a parting squeeze. “Go hide and I’ll see who’s there.”

Yuri took his hard-on into the bathroom and waited impatiently.

The interruption was champagne courtesy of the front desk. It sat in a giant tub of ice on a cloth-draped cart.

“That was nice.” Yuri picked up a champagne flute decorated with a silver ribbon around the stem. His dick was slightly deflated, but it wouldn’t take much to fatten it up again.

Beka, examining the label, said, “This is the good stuff. She must have thought you were sexy.” He went to work on the cork.

“Baka, no, you’re the one girls like.” Though actually Beka’s fans were _women_ , Yuri’s were girls.

Yuri flopped down on the bed on his back, propped up on his elbows, and played with his cock while he watched Beka uncork the bottle like a fucking sommelier. There was a soft sigh as the cork eased into Beka’s hand and a chill mist rose from the mouth of the open bottle.

Beka poured champagne into glasses and brought one to Yuri.

“A toast?”

“Of course.” Yuri pushed himself up to sitting.

Beka thought a moment. “To our partnership. May we share podiums for years to come.”

Yuri laughed.

Beka laughed too. “Is that lame?”

“It’s perfect. Drink.”

They clinked glasses and drank. Beka sipped, Yuri guzzled like a barbarian.

Beka chuckled. “Pace yourself, kotik. We have work to do.”

“Work?”

“Obligatory engagement sex.”

Yuri laughed. “If you insist.” He remembered something; he got up from the bed and went to dig through his suitcase.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something I want.” He felt around for it blindly in his rumpled clothes and finally hit upon the buckle. “Here. Found it.” He held it out for Beka to see.

Beka laughed, a surprised bark. “Even in your crappy mood you remembered to pack that?”

“I was just grabbing stuff and throwing it in the bag…” It was kind of embarrassing he’d forgotten to bring a decent shirt but had remembered his collar.

“You want a game to celebrate?” Beka’s smile was fond and amused . “All right. Let’s play.”

Yuri was excited Beka was so willing to play; sometimes he had to be talked into it.

Beka stripped off his jeans and underwear and moved the room’s only armchair to a spot in front of the full-length mirror bolted to the wall. They had a mirror like this in their bedroom at home, but there wasn’t always one so convenient in hotel rooms. Beka moved the champagne cart so they could reach it from the chair, using it as a place to set down their glasses. He got lube out of his bag and set it on the champagne cart as well.

Yuri sat cross-legged on the floor and watched him move things into place. Beka liked to arrange things, and he was better at it than Yuri anyway.

Beka said, “I brought music.”

“Is it a sex mix?” Beka liked to make mixes for every purpose—dinner parties, lazy Sundays, fucking.

“Well, it’s a hope-he-said-yes mix.”

Yuri smiled. “Set it up. I’ll wait.” He wiped precome from his cockhead with his thumb and put it in his mouth.

Beka had a portable speaker/docking station for his phone in his bag and spent a couple minutes plugging everything in. Soon after, there were hypnotic lub-dub sex rhythms pumping at low volume, loud enough to be heard but not to interfere with their experience.

Beka smiled at him and went to stand before the armchair. He looked himself over in the mirror, his face set in the stoic expression he showed to people he didn’t know. He gave his big cock a few strokes and a squeeze before sitting down in the chair. His posture was relaxed yet regal, a prince, a hero. He turned and smiled at Yuri.

“Come over here if you’re ready.”

Yuri scrambled up to standing. He crossed the carpet to kneel at Beka’s feet. His heart was pounding.

Beka put his hand on Yuri’s head and tousled his hair, just stirring the strands. With a sidelong glance, Yuri looked at himself in the mirror. Small, pale, lithe but muscular, with long blond hair and a pretty face. He wished he was taller, broader, more masculine, but Beka didn’t want that at all. Beka loved having a fairy-twink boyfriend, and he was going to love having a fairy-twink husband, Yuri would make sure of it.

Beka looked at them together in the mirror and obviously liked what he saw. He loved seeing Yuri from every angle. Yuri liked seeing things too, but he was more interested in how they felt.

Beka held out his hand for the collar. “Give that to me.”

Yuri gave it over with hands that shook almost imperceptibly, the finest tremor. It was a simple collar made of black leather, about two fingers wide, with a steel ring in front and a steel buckle at the back. There was a round steel jingle bell the size of a plump cherry hanging from the ring. It was a cat’s collar. The collar had started out as a joke, but they took it seriously now.

_ting_

“Do you want me to put it on you?” Beka asked, running his fingers over the length of the leather strap.

“Baka, you know I do.”

“You’re gonna have to earn it.” Beka smiled. “It’s a special occasion, so I expect more from you than usual.”

Yuri shivered and his cock flexed, the head wet with a surge of precome. “Have I ever let you down?”

“Not yet.” Beka smoothed Yuri’s hair back from his brow, meeting his eyes with a serious expression, but then he smiled. “Come on, kotik. Impress me.”

Yuri shifted to kneel between Beka’s feet, his hands on Beka’s knees, and looked up at his handsome face. His handsome fucking _husband_ face.

Yuri’s heart lurched in his chest. He took a deep breath, knelt up, and took hold of Beka’s dick with both hands.

Yuri licked and sucked Beka’s fat cockhead while Beka sighed and whimpered and ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair. Over these past three years, Yuri had become expert at putting his mouth on Beka’s big dick; at this point, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t even know how to act with a dick that fit entirely in his mouth.

Yuri left off sucking and reached for the lube bottle; Beka got to it first and handed it to him. Yuri squirted a little puddle in his palm and slathered it on Beka’s shaft. Beka groaned and let his head fall back while Yuri worked his cock with slick hands and a wet mouth. Beka shifted beneath him, tiny movements of his hips tilting back and forth. Yuri sucked the sensitive spot on the underside of Beka’s cockhead and Beka whimpered and pushed his cock against Yuri’s lips, holding Yuri’s head down with a fist in his hair.

Beka moaned as his cock went just a little stiffer, swelled just a little fatter, and Yuri immediately let go of it and wrested his head out from beneath Beka’s hand.

“Not yet.” Yuri sat back on his heels, not touching Beka at all.

Beka groaned and sprawled panting in the chair with his cock bobbing in his lap. Yuri reached out with one slick hand and steadied it, gave it a squeeze. He watched Beka intently, waiting for his breathing to calm, looking to see some of the tension leave his body.

“Ready?” Yuri asked, head cocked.

Beka chuckled, helpless and happy. “Give me a minute.”

Yuri gave him a few seconds. “I think you’re ready.” He put another squirt of lube on his palm and bent over Beka’s dick once more.

Three more times he took Beka to a point just short of orgasm. They had a champagne break between the second and third rounds. After the fourth round, Yuri let Beka calm down and then got up to straddle his lap, pressing their hard cocks together and working them with his slippery hands. Beka pulled him down into a deep, hungry kiss, then broke away to look him in the eyes.

“When I put my collar on a cat, everyone knows he’s mine.”

Yuri’s mouth was immediately dry. “So you like cats?”

They had three actual cats back in St. Petersburg.

Beka shrugged. “Just one cat, really. My beautiful kotik.”

“What makes him special?”

“He’s just the right size for my lap. But everything about him is special.”

“Everything?” Yuri ducked in to kiss Beka’s neck.

“Mm-hmm. He has the sexiest purr…”

“All cats purr,” Yuri pointed out, nuzzling the skin before Beka’s ear.

“My cat purrs only for me, and no one else can pet him—he isn’t tame.”

“What if someone tried?”

Beka laughed. “Anyone who dared would lose a hand.”

Yuri laughed too. “To you or to him?”

Beka smiled. “Whichever of us got there first.”

Beka then raised his hand to Yuri’s throat, his thumb to one side and fingers to the other, and gently squeezed. Yuri leaned into the pressure, unable to suppress a whimper when Beka took his hand away.

“Down on the floor, kotik. You need a bell so I can hear you coming.”

Yuri quickly knelt between Beka’s feet, facing the mirror, and swept his hair away from his neck, a hint. Beka met his eyes in the mirror and smiled. He stroked the line of Yuri’s neck with a fingertip, from his ear out to the dome of his shoulder, and then bent to press kisses along this curve. Yuri liked the touching, liked the kisses, but he wanted the collar.

The collar had slipped down between Beka’s thigh and the arm of the chair, but now Beka laid it over his thigh where Yuri could see it reflected in the mirror.

Beka chuckled, low and intimate. “Look at me, kotik.”

Yuri dragged his gaze up from the collar with some effort. Beka seemed to find him amusing. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“I know you want it.” Beka touched the collar, a little pat that made the bell tinkle. “I want you to have it.”

_ting_

Yuri opened his mouth to speak, his throat dry. With a soft cough, he asked, “What do I need to do?” He shifted on his knees, readying himself to do whatever Beka asked.

“Be a little patient and show me what I like.” Beka bent and kissed the top of Yuri’s head.

What Beka liked was Yuri. He liked to see Yuri’s fit little body from every angle. He liked to see Yuri touch himself, both for his own pleasure and to prepare himself for Beka’s cock. He liked for Yuri to be loud and abandoned. He loved it when Yuri lost it, when he groveled and begged for more, more, more.

Beka was easy to please.

Yuri met Beka’s eyes in the mirror and ran his hands over his body, a smooth sweep over ribs, waist, hips, thighs. He knelt up, swaying on his knees. He spread his legs and touched his inner thighs, his balls. His ring caught the light, the tiny diamond like a star. His cock stood up slick and ready and he took it in hand.

Beka sat near the edge of the chair seat, his legs spread to either side of Yuri’s body, and watched Yuri in the mirror as he stroked his cock. Beka’s eyes followed the movements of Yuri’s hand and the bright flash of his ring for a few seconds, but then he met Yuri’s eyes and held his gaze.

The eye contact was intimate and intense. Beka saw him like no one else ever would. Overwhelmed, Yuri closed his eyes, but reached back with his free hand and pulled Beka down into a kiss.

Beka kissed his way down from Yuri’s mouth to his neck, sinking his teeth carefully and deliberately into the flesh of Yuri’s shoulder where a t-shirt would cover any marks. The pain was sharp and unyielding. As Beka sucked a bruise into Yuri’s skin, Yuri gasped and arched beneath his mouth.

“The other side too,” Yuri urged in a pressured murmur. “Please, Beka.”

While Beka made tooth marks on Yuri’s other shoulder, he reached around Yuri’s sides and pinched his little nipples, his touch delicate. Yuri’s nipples were especially sensitive, much more so than Beka’s, and Yuri’s cock jerked in his fist as Beka rolled them between fingers and thumbs. Each twist and flick brought a fresh surge of precome to gloss his cockhead.

“You’re making a lot,” Beka noted, indicating the wet slit with a nod. “Taste it for me.”

Yuri did as Beka asked. It didn’t taste like much of anything, but that wasn’t really the point. Beka watched him lick, offering him a satisfied smile, eyes narrowed. Yuri slicked his fingers again and offered them to Beka, who sucked them clean.

“I think you’re ready now.” Beka caressed Yuri’s ass cheek. “Let me give you what you want.”

Beka picked up the collar and held it against Yuri’s neck. The leather was thick and sturdy but smooth and comfortable against Yuri’s skin. The rivets that held the ring in place were cool, as was the curve of the bell, which hung just above the hollow of his throat. Beka buckled the collar on, his pace unhurried, though Yuri was trembling and impatient. The collar fit closely but wasn’t tight. Beka put two fingers between the collar and the back of Yuri’s neck, tightening it subtly against his throat, and Yuri’s cock jerked, fattening with a fresh surge of blood.

Yuri looked at the two of them in the mirror. Beka looked like a god, sleek, graceful and muscular with a perfect cock and golden skin. He made a good contrast with pale little Yuri, whose face and chest were flushed, whose hair was in disarray, whose cock was vivid pink and slick with precome. His twinky type wasn’t what he liked, but Yuri had to admit that if you wanted to fuck a pixie, he was basically perfect.

Yuri loved the way he looked in the collar. His neck seemed very white, slashed with the heavy black line of the collar. The silvery bell and the ring it hung from were bright and shiny.

Until today, this collar and his competition medals had been Yuri’s only jewelry.

Until today, this collar had been the sole proof that he belonged to Beka, that Beka had chosen him.

“Stand up, kotik.” Beka patted his shoulder and began to rise from the chair, scooping up the lube from the floor as he did so.

Yuri made way for him and they stood looking at themselves in the mirror. Yuri hadn’t grown a millimeter since they’d met again in Barcelona, but Beka was now 13 cm taller than him. Beka hadn’t gotten any taller in about a year now, but it was certainly possible he wasn’t done growing yet.

Yuri was done.

Beka’s handsome face was unsmiling in the mirror, his gaze steady as he stroked Yuri’s shoulders, and Yuri leaned back against his warm, hard body feeling protected and loved.

Beka bent his head and carefully bit Yuri’s shoulders again, left then right, sharp teeth and sucking kisses, Beka licking the tender flesh as Yuri winced and gasped. Yuri liked the endorphin rush from the pain, and he liked the red and purple marks, Beka’s claims on his body that he would carry with him beneath his clothes. He couldn’t walk around in the world wearing the collar, but now he had the ring.

Did he still need the marks then?

Yes.

Beka kissed his cheek. “Say goodbye to the mirror.” He turned Yuri around and ushered him toward the bed.

At home, they had mirrors arranged so they could watch themselves fuck from almost any angle, but they’d never encountered full mirror coverage in a hotel, and this one was no exception.

Beka tossed the bottle of lube on the bed.

“Sit down.”

Beka gave Yuri a little push, a hand spread on his chest, and he sat at the edge of the bed, his bell ringing as his ass met the mattress.

_ting_

“Spread your legs.”

Yuri spread his legs wide.

“Touch your cock.”

Yuri worked his cock in slow, twisting strokes, watching as Beka watched him, wanting Beka to see what he was looking for.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing kotik.” Beka’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “I don’t want a fake show. I want to see how good it feels.”

So Yuri concentrated on what would feel good, in this moment, and played with his nipples with one hand while stroking his cock with the other. He let his head fall back, eyes closed.

“Lie back if you want,” Beka told him. “Keep your legs spread.”

Yuri lay back on the duvet, eyes still closed, very aware of Beka’s gaze, very aware of the collar heavy around his neck.

He felt Beka’s hands on his thighs, then Beka’s mouth pressing a kiss to the inside of his right leg just above the knee. A kiss and a hard suck. Beka did the same on the left side, then returned to the right. Yuri knew the bite was coming, but it still jolted him, still made him cry out, and it made his cock jerk and flex as his hips lifted from the bed. He groaned in anticipation as Beka turned his attention to the left thigh.

Collar and claiming and a fiancé. Fuck, this was seriously the best day ever.

Beka strung vicious love bites along Yuri’s inner thighs, back and forth, right and left, a little higher each time. Yuri yelped and groaned and writhed beneath Beka’s mouth. He couldn't remember Beka biting him this hard before, and it was scary, and he was so turned on. He wet his fingers with the copious precome that drooled from his cock and offered his slick fingers for Beka to suck. As he sat partway up to do this, he saw the angry red marks Beka was making on his pale skin and whimpered with excitement. He was going to have fucking hardcore bruises, probably even tooth marks.

The skin of Yuri’s thighs was hot and raw and the trails of bites stung and smarted. Beka’s final kisses were bitten into the flesh on either side of Yuri’s balls, teeth closing on the ligament in his groin. Yuri was still gasping and quaking when Beka raised his head and coaxed him to move.

“Move up, kotik. Toward the pillows.”

Yuri moved, scooching across the duvet on his back as his bell _ting_ ed.

Beka got on the bed and knelt between his thighs, lube bottle in hand. “Knees up.”

Yuri drew his knees up, splayed wide, offering Beka full access to his hole, to his cock and balls.

Beka bent and pressed sucking kisses to the skin around his hole, licking and biting while Yuri yipped and bucked beneath him.

_ting_

Beka sat back on his heels and squirted lube on his hand. Sometimes he asked Yuri to lube his hole himself, but Yuri tended to rush through impatiently making it more uncomfortable for everyone, and today Beka wasn’t taking that chance.

Beka knew exactly how and where to touch Yuri, rubbing his prostate with firm strokes, just the right amount of pressure, while Yuri thrashed and jangled, too turned on. Beka looked at him, looked into his eyes. He said _Let me hear your voice, kotik_. Yuri whimpered and growled, bell _ting_ ing as he squirmed. Beka could make Yuri come this way, but he wouldn’t today; they had a lot more to accomplish. Yuri shuddered with anticipation, his hole clenching in erratic spasms around Beka’s fingers.

Beka slicked his cock and knelt with his thighs spread around Yuri’s hips. He lined himself up and began to push inside. Somehow, even after three years of getting it practically daily, being opened up on Beka’s big cock was always a breathtaking surprise.

Beka made a soft sound, an appreciative grunt. “Kotik, I love watching you open up for me. No one is better at taking a cock.” He sounded so proud of Yuri.

Of course, Beka was only comparing him to the very few girls with whom he’d attempted anal. Yuri thought it was important to note that girls didn’t have prostates as an incentive for taking a giant dick up their asses, so of course they might be less enthusiastic. But lots of guys could take a dick. Dudes in porn sat on big fat dicks every day. Yuri suspected there were plenty of other men, other twinky blond men, who would jump at the chance to ride Beka’s megacock and would do it as well as or better than him.

But he would take the compliment.

And he would keep Beka’s cock to himself.

His _husband’s_ cock.

 _Fuck,_ that was so fucking hot!

He shuddered beneath Beka, and Beka was immediately worried.

“Kotik? Everything okay?” Beka peered down into his face, touching him with concern.

“Everything’s great.” He wriggled to spread his legs wider still. “You feel too good, ayu.”

 _Ayu_. It was Kazakh for bear. Yuri had only recently started using it, despite knowing the word since Barcelona. Beka loved it, and Yuri knew he should’ve started using it a long time ago.

Beka laughed, pleased at the pet name, and leaned in, hands on the backs of Yuri’s thighs, and began to fuck him emphatically, just pounding at him roughly—though Yuri knew if he showed the least sign of discomfort, Beka would stop everything to take care of him. Every thrust made the bell tinkle frantically, obnoxious and hypnotic.

Yuri played with his nipples and enjoyed the ride. He tried to touch his cock, but Beka batted his hand away, telling him _Not yet_. He put his fingers beneath the collar, not sure what he was even trying to do with it, but Beka wouldn’t allow that either.

“I’ll do it,” Beka told him firmly, grunting it out between thrusts. “You know how we play this game.”

Yuri did know. He also knew that Beka didn’t really care about it except that it mattered to him, to Yuri. Claiming. Collaring. Choking.

Yuri was lost in the sound of the bell, whimpering like a kicked dog, when Beka slowed his thrusts, long, slick, gliding pumps that made Yuri groan. Beka leaned over Yuri, breathing hard, holding himself up with one hand and caressing Yuri’s body with the other.

He stroked the side of Yuri’s face, his neck. He put his hand on Yuri’s throat below the collar, thumb to one side and fingers to the other, no more pressure than the simple weight of his hand. He leaned down, nose to nose, his thrusts slowing further still.

“Do you know what I’m gonna do to you?” he murmured.

Yuri had a lot of ideas, but, “N-no.”

Beka laughed softly and licked Yuri's mouth, a quick swipe.

“I’m gonna marry you, you dirty little bitch. I’m gonna fuck you just the way you like for the rest of your life.”

Yuri laughed too, letting out a happy growl. That sounded great, fucking perfect. He reached up for Beka and drew him down into a tight embrace, arms and legs around his back. They kissed and rocked together, Beka’s cock throbbing in Yuri’s ass, Yuri’s bell jingling.

_ting_

Beka kissed his nose. “Are you ready?”

“Please, ayu. I’m ready.”

Beka got down on one elbow, his forearm next to Yuri’s head, tilting up to make space between their bodies. With his other hand, he reached beneath Yuri’s neck and slipped two fingers inside the collar, tightening it ever-so-slightly against Yuri’s throat, against his windpipe and carotids. Yuri let out a low moan, his cock flexing hard with a gush of precome.

With a slight turn of the wrist, Beka could make the collar tighter still, and he’d done so in the past, but Yuri couldn’t count on him doing it every time. Beka was cautious. Beka would make him work for it. Beka would hold the collar stable and Yuri would arch up from the bed to press against the leather to get the choke he wanted. This wasn’t safe, but it was safer, safer than what they’d done before.

The collar had been a half-joking gift, something Beka had thought would be cute. After they’d been together about a year, Beka had stopped by their favorite sex shop to pick up some lube and saw the collar on a mannequin that was also wearing cat ears. He’d wanted to see Yuri wearing it enough to buy it and take it home, slightly embarrassed by what seemed a fairly tame kink.

Yuri had loved it. He’d worn it with black velvet cat ears (a gift from a fan) and Beka fucked him from behind, holding onto the collar. The bell made a frantic, jangling _ting_ with each of Beka’s thrusts. Yuri had panted and gagged and leaned into the pressure from the collar, lightheaded and giddy, coming hard.

At first, not knowing any better, Beka had let Yuri throw himself forcefully against the restraint of the collar, the leather digging into his neck deep enough to leave marks, his breath cut short, numb and buzzing with oxygen deprivation, coming hard as a hammer blow. The orgasms were some of the most intense he’d ever had, and he’d wanted to play with the collar nearly every day.

After a couple of weeks though, Yuri pushed the choking too far, well past what Beka was comfortable with. Yuri’s face had been purple and distorted in the bedroom mirror, Beka had gone pale with horror above him, and then Yuri had passed out, just for a few seconds, but he was unresponsive long enough for Beka to think he’d killed him. Yuri had downplayed his loss of consciousness, but Beka was alarmed and remorseful, worried they were doing something they shouldn’t, and did some research into what the BDSM community called breathplay.

Everything Beka had learned about breathplay and choking (death, death, death, essentially) was so dire that Yuri wasn’t sure how he’d even convinced Beka they could continue to play this way at all, though he wasn’t about to question it.

Now they only played with the collar every few weeks, in what they believed were the safest possible ways, and only if Beka was in the mood.

What Yuri had now was the hint of choking and the intense memories evoked by the hypnotic bell. He had a strong sense of being owned, possessed, that he was collared by Beka and under his control. With all the mental stuff, the orgasms were nearly as good as that one time Beka had thought he'd died, so he tried not to miss the hardcore strangulation too much.

Beka tugged at the collar, a tiny experimental movement, then immediately relieved the pressure. He was always vigilant about pressure on Yuri’s neck, never letting Yuri have a fully-satisfying choke. Yuri understood why, but sometimes he didn’t care. Beka rode motorcycles, but Yuri was actually the reckless one.

“How does it feel?” Beka asked. “Lift up a little.”

Yuri raised his head and upper chest from the bed while Beka held the collar down, the arc of Yuri’s throat straining up against the restriction of the collar. There were a lot of rules for this game. Yuri wasn’t allowed to use his arms to maneuver or support himself, just the muscles of his upper body. Maintaining the position was a strain, slightly awkward but doable for someone with the core strength of a fucking Olympian.

Beka bent and kissed Yuri quickly, then again more seriously, and fucked him a few strokes while he was at it. Yuri lifted his head and shoulders so as to meet Beka’s mouth and to strangle himself on the collar Beka held steady. Yuri gagged a little, then coughed. Beka watched Yuri’s face, rolled his hips against Yuri’s ass, and put the slightest bit more pressure on the collar.

Yuri coughed again and sucked in a rasping breath as Beka’s cock bumped hard past his prostate and a numbing buzz spreading throughout his body like ink in water. The bell rang each time Beka thrust in _ting ting ting_. The pressure against Yuri’s neck squeezed his carotids and he began to feel lightheaded, dizzy.

And then it was too much to hold his head and shoulders up while he was being fucked and passing out, and he collapsed back to the bed, back on top of Beka’s choking hand, breathing hard.

Beka was still pumping into him, controlled and steady; Beka could do this for hours. Beka said, “That was good, but you can do better,” and gave the collar a little tug for emphasis.

_ting_

Yuri lifted head and shoulders from the bed once again, arcing up until the leather pulled snug across his windpipe, until it pressed against the sides of his neck and began to cut off the blood to his brain. With each of Beka’s thrusts, the bell rang and Yuri’s hard cock smacked against his wet belly. Yuri lifted his head just a little further to accept a kiss from Beka, and with the kiss came a few moments of increased pressure on his throat, but then Beka’s choking hand caught up with Yuri’s neck, taking the pressure off entirely. Beka heard Yuri’s frustrated growl and just laughed.

Yuri tried again, head and shoulders off the bed, collar tight, listening to the bell and following the _ting_ as it went in and out of focus. With his eyes closed, swimming through a woozy haze, he heard the rattle and bounce of the tiny ball that made the bell jingle weaving in and out of the sound of his own throbbing pulse. He heard Beka’s breath, smooth and steady, and he heard the wet slide of Beka’s cock moving in his lubed asshole. The mix Beka had made for them was distant, music not as important right now as the sounds of the bell or their bodies.

Again the work of holding himself up was too much to sustain, and Yuri fell back panting on the duvet, Beka still fucking him at a steady tempo.

_ting_

He was slightly disoriented, everything feeling slightly unreal, as he lay panting with Beka’s hand trapped beneath his shoulders. He was so turned on, but he was frustrated, knowing Beka wouldn’t give him the choking he wanted. Whenever Yuri got close, he’d tire out and collapse, relieving the pressure, or Beka would become worried about his darkening face and release the tension for him.

He wanted Beka to drag him around by the collar. He wanted Beka to grab him by the throat and shake him. He knew it wouldn’t happen, and he knew why, but he still wanted a good throttling.

This was Yuri’s game, but Beka made the rules. Their games weren't safe, but Beka did his best to make them safer. Yuri felt lucky Beka would play with him at all.

Beka slowed his hips, his cock making a slick gloss, an easy slide. He pulled his hand from beneath Yuri’s shoulders and laid it across Yuri’s throat, making Yuri gasp.

Beka bent low, speaking confidentially though there was no one to hear them. “How long can you hold your breath?”

Beka’s voice was like a blade cutting through all the extraneous noise, all the unimportant stimuli. Yuri whimpered and rocked his hips, squeezing around Beka’s cock as he awkwardly strained upward for a kiss. As they broke apart, Beka smiled, all reassurance and encouragement.

“How long?” Beka repeated.

Yuri’s voice sounded rusty when he said, “I’ll show you.”

“Good,” Beka said, sounding pleased. “I want to see.”

Beka pushed himself up, his supporting arm straight, braced on the bed by Yuri’s ear. He caressed Yuri’s cheek with his free hand as he shifted and got into position.

“Beka?” Yuri’s voice was tiny and weak. He was shaking a little, excited for what came next.

Beka traced the line of the collar across Yuri’s throat. “What is it, zhanym?” Beka was feeling extra-romantic when he broke out the Kazakh endearments.

“I love you so much.” He felt confessional, fragile and shy, and the words weren’t big enough, didn’t convey enough.

“I love you too. We’re in it together forever.” Beka spanned Yuri’s throat with his hand, no more pressure than the weight of it, but Yuri felt it in his cock nonetheless.

“Show me how you do it,” Beka said. “If you try hard, I’ll help you next time.” He shifted, his hips tight against Yuri’s ass. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Yuri nodded. He took a couple of deep breaths, letting out whooshing exhalations, then inhaled and held the breath while Beka began to bang him, not at his max but hard. It was difficult for Yuri to hold his breath with Beka hammering at him; he closed his eyes to concentrate and clapped his hands over his nose and mouth, pressure building in his lungs, in his head, and the urge to breathe almost unbearable. Beka’s cock felt impossibly heavy and solid pushing in and dragging out, the elastic rim of Yuri’s hole stretched almost to the point of pain.

Each time Beka thrust in, a lightning stab of pleasure jolted Yuri’s spine, and with each spike of pleasure he had to fight to hold back the groan or gasp that would bring him fresh air. The metronomic _ting_ of the bell was almost maddening. His pulse was a roar. He was lightheaded and dizzy. He felt fucking incredible.

But he had to breathe. He held out as long as he could, but he always had to breathe.

He lay gasping on the duvet, gaze unfocused, and then looked up at Beka’s face.

Beka grinned. “You are fucking tough, kotik. And stubborn. Determined.” He was still fucking Yuri, though now at a lazy pace. “I need more lube and then I’ll help you.”

As Beka pulled out, Yuri grumbled in complaint. He lay limp and shaky as he watched Beka slick his cock with fresh lube. It had felt like he’d held his breath for a glorious hour, but it had probably been thirty seconds at most.

Beka moved back into position, his knees to either side of Yuri’s hips, and eased his cock back inside Yuri’s body. Yuri sighed and shuddered, drawing his knees higher. Beka looked down and ran his fingers along Yuri’s tender thighs, knee to groin, first one side and then the other.

“You’re gonna have some impressive bruises.”

Yuri smiled. “Good.”

Beka leaned over him, braced on his left hand, his right stroking Yuri’s face, tracing his hairline.

“You want my help?”

“Yeah, always.”

Beka touched Yuri’s cheek, fingers spread, his thumb stroking Yuri’s lower lip. “I’m ready.”

“Me too.”

Beka bent and kissed him, wet and sweet. “Hold your breath, kotik.”

Yuri had time to take in a gulp of air before Beka’s hand closed over his nose and mouth, pinching and constraining, weight behind it pushing Yuri down into the billowy duvet. Yuri let out a breathless squeak behind Beka’s hand. Beka fucked him as he held his nose and mouth shut, again not at his max, but with vigor. Banging hard _ting ting ting._ Yuri was woozy right away, his vision greying and full of pinprick lights as he struggled for air.

Beka released him and let him breathe. Yuri gasped, trying to draw in as much air as possible.

Beka smiled at him very tenderly, but said, “You can do better.” He caressed Yuri’s cheek. “Hold your breath.”

Once again, Beka closed off his nose and mouth and fucked him hard. He was quickly overwhelmed by the need for air, thrashing helplessly against Beka’s superior strength and greater weight. He was dimly aware that he clawed at Beka’s restricting hand with a swipe of his own spastic fingers, and Beka immediately released his hold.

“Kotik? You okay?” Beka stopped moving, stopped everything. “Do you want to stop?”

Yuri was embarrassed by his flailing. “No, I’m fine. I just…I panicked.”

“I don’t want you to be scared,” Beka said, fretting.

Did Beka not understand that being scared was practically the point of this game? Being scared and coming really hard.

“I’m not scared,” Yuri lied. He wasn’t _now_ , but in the moment he was scared shitless. But he knew better than to tell Beka he liked being frightened he might die because Yuri dying was what Beka was afraid of, and Beka might welcome a reason to stop playing this game entirely.

Beka was peering down at Yuri’s face, turning it side to side with a hand on his chin. He was looking for burst blood vessels; if he saw any, they were done playing. Yuri must have looked all right, because Beka gave him a quick kiss and pushed himself up on a straight arm to loom over him.

“Ready?”

Yuri nodded and inhaled as Beka’s hand closed over his face.

Again, the world receded at rocket speed and the pleasure he got from Beka’s cock in his ass was almost enough to make him come, the pressure of it more intense with each second he went without air. He was suffocating in dark fog that rolled in from the edges of his vision, his body clamping down around Beka’s cock as he slobbered all over Beka’s hand and choked on the absence of oxygen.

Beka took his hand away and Yuri gasped, light and sound flooding in.

“Touch your cock,” Beka said. “Catch your breath and touch your cock.”

Yuri did as he was told, stroking his cock purposefully, ready to come. Beka liked to watch him do it and sat back on his heels so he could watch Yuri’s busy hands and pump into his ass at the same time. Yuri’s bell jingled merrily as they worked.

“Are you close, kotik?”

“Yeah.” Yuri nodded and kept tugging his cock.

Beka leaned over him again, a bracing hand planted by his ear and his other hand laid lightly across Yuri’s throat, silencing the bell.

Beka’s voice was the only sound in the world. “Hold your breath, zhanym.”

Yuri took in a deep inhalation and held it as Beka’s fingers pinched his nostrils and covered his lips.

Everything got messy and hectic very quickly. As Yuri sank into airless shadows, he fantasized that Beka’s hand was actually on his throat, strangling him, twisting the collar. He struggled not to struggle against Beka’s suffocating hand and concentrated on holding his breath and working his cock. His awareness waxed and waned, his sensorium pressured and high-pitched as he spiraled deeper into a carbon dioxide-flooded void.

“Come for me,” Beka murmured in his ear, letting him breathe for just a moment before clapping a hand back over his face. “Don't pass out on me.”

He was close now, so close. His movements were imprecise, rough and sweeping. He moaned behind Beka’s hand, bucking and thrashing in search of air, but Beka held him down with the hand across his face and fucked him harder still. It was too much. He fell away from consciousness into grey-violet fog bitten with rare stars, and then he heard Beka’s voice cut through the hum and the frantic _ting_ of the bell.

"I don't need a collar to own you." Beka's rough whisper rasped in his ear. "You're already mine."

Yuri was at the edge of consciousness, nearly gone, when Beka gave him this raw reminder, the truest thing Yuri had ever heard, and he began to come, back arched, his vision greyed to glittering sleet. As soon as Yuri started to come, Beka released his hold on Yuri's nose and mouth. At his first taste of air, Yuri was obliterated by unforgiving pleasure, unbearably intense, his body contracting like a clenching fist, ass clamping around Beka's cock. He used his first breath to cry out, loud and abandoned. His cock jerked hard in his limp fingers and spurted with enough force to splatter his neck and jaw.

Beka groaned as he slammed into Yuri a final time, his cock jerking as he came with a shout.

For a few hazy seconds, there was no sound but Yuri taking greedy deep draughts of air, filling his lungs.

“You’re mine,” Beka said again, his voice low and rough like he was the one who’d been choked.

“You’re mine too,” Yuri countered between shaky breaths, his voice tiny and tremulous.

Beka nuzzled the side of Yuri’s neck. “Of course I am. I’m your bitch.” He touched Yuri tenderly, possessively, deliberately. “How do you feel, kotik?” He slipped off Yuri and stretched out along his side, drawing him close.

But now Yuri was at a loss for words, everything catching up with him. He shook his head and smiled, his face pressed to Beka’s chest.

Beka chuckled and kissed his forehead. “I think you’re happy.”

Yuri still couldn’t speak, but he petted and patted Beka’s face and throat, his beautiful broad shoulders.

“Do you want to stretch out?” Beka asked. He waited a moment for Yuri’s nod, then rolled onto his back, pulling Yuri along with him. Yuri made himself comfortable atop Beka’s body, his head resting on Beka’s chest as Beka’s hands roamed leisurely up and down his back.

“Are you cold?” Beka kissed the part in his hair and rubbed his back.

Yuri shook his head no and held on tighter. Beka was so good to him. Not everyone had this kind of attention and care, even with someone who loved them. Yuri was indulged and treasured like he really was Beka’s most important person.

Yuri had no sense of how much time had passed, but eventually he felt very relaxed and calm and a lot more verbal.

“Ayu?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s get up.”

“Whatever you want, kotik.”

As Yuri pushed himself up to sitting and slid from Beka’s body, he felt Beka’s come leaking out of his hole. He walked the short distance to stand before the mirror and looked at himself: shoulders marked with red-and-purple bites, thighs bitten even more ferociously and sticky with come, neck collared, hair in snarls. Ring on his finger. He beamed at his reflection; he looked like he’d had a great time.

Beka stood behind him, arms around his torso. He bent to kiss a bitten shoulder and reached for the collar’s buckle. “Do you want me to wash you?”

~o0o~

They didn't have sex like this every day, or even very often. Beka took the risk of death by strangulation or suffocation more seriously than Yuri did, but Yuri was careful not to ask for the collar too often. Beka was much more willing to do the marking and claiming that made Yuri feel so loved, but they mostly restricted this to the off-season. During skating season, it was too difficult to hide livid bite marks in a crowded locker room, and they weren't something either Yuri or Beka wanted to explain or be teased about.

The sex Yuri did get to have practically every day was a flesh-and-blood luxury, a full-body indulgence, the kind of sex other men only dreamed of having. He was fucking lucky, lucky that Beka loved him, lucky that Beka wanted him. The idea that he and Beka would absolutely, definitely fuck each other forever was a happy relief. He could string up MARRIAGE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape all around Beka, and all around the sex Beka gave him, and all around the life they shared, and know that Beka was his and his alone.

But Beka had once said _Sometimes I wish you had a twin_ , and Yuri had asked why, and Beka had flushed red and admitted he'd fantasized about Yuri making out with a pixie beauty like himself. He'd imagined Yuri touching his double's cock and tender nipples, imagined him fucking himself and making himself come. Yuri had pointed out that he probably wouldn’t want to have sex with a twinky double, some matching creature, and Beka had laughed and said it was just a fantasy, but Yuri could tell it was a potent one. Just as the collar was for him.

Beka did DJ sets once or twice a month at St. Petersburg clubs and Yuri would go along to make out with him in the DJ booth and dance sexy with strangers. Beka liked to see Yuri move, liked to see other men desiring him, so Yuri would put on a show. Only once had one of these strangers taken it too far, Beka leaping down from the DJ booth to swiftly and decisively defend Yuri’s honor, which Yuri appreciated even though he was capable of kicking a guy’s ass on his own.

Yuri didn’t need to see other men desiring Beka. He knew they all did, every one of them, and protecting his territory was emotionally exhausting, so he just did his best to ignore them and their hungry eyes.

But there was a boy they saw at each of Beka’s club nights, slight and blond and pretty, and he was obviously a fan who liked to watch Beka work as he danced. Yuri had danced with him a few times for Beka’s benefit, for the sake of twinship, and wondered if Beka wanted to see more. Yuri had never so much as kissed anyone but Beka, but if Beka wanted it, he would kiss the blond boy. He would do whatever Beka asked.

Clean, warm and damp, they stretched on the bed, sprawling side by side. Beka’s eyes searched Yuri’s face. “What are you thinking about, kotik? You look worried.”

Yuri attempted to shake off his fretful mood. “Nothing. I was just thinking about fantasies.”

“What about them?”

“The collar is mine. I know it isn’t yours. But there are things I know you want…”

Beka laughed softly and pulled Yuri close. “I really just want you. I’m simple.” He kissed Yuri’s neck. “I did bring the collar home, remember?”

“You didn’t plan for it to get so…” Yuri didn’t even know how to describe the evolution of his fantasy.

“Intense,” Beka suggested.

“Yeah, intense. I was just thinking about your twin fantasy, and that blond guy we see every time you spin at a club—”

“Kotik, no.” Beka laughed again. “I don’t want that. It’s okay that it’s just in my head.”

“I would do whatever you want,” Yuri said firmly, determined that Beka understand the lengths to which he would go for love.

“I only want you, all right? If there was another true Yura, another just like you, I might feel differently, but I don’t want that boy. He’s not handsome enough to be your twin anyway.”

“You don’t think so?” Yuri was surprised; the blond was a very pretty boy.

Beka snorted, amused. “I just said. No one’s as beautiful to me as you.” He smiled and stroked Yuri’s cheek. “I’m afraid it’ll get boring for you having a husband who loves you the most and thinks you’re the best.”

Yuri suspected the word _husband_ was going to make him hard, or at least make his cock twitch, throughout their entire engagement and well into their marriage. Maybe forever.

“That sounds perfect,” Yuri assured him. He worried at his lip as he considered what to say next. “I’m going to try my best to be a good husband. I want to be a better partner. I’ll try to deserve you and do my—”

“Yura, no. I don’t need you to make drastic changes. I love you now, just as you are.”

“But I’ve been a dickhole ever since Worlds,” Yuri insisted. “I’ve been waiting for you to propose and getting saltier about it every day.”

Beka blinked, baffled. “I hadn’t noticed. I think maybe your attitude problem was happening in your head, kotik. You haven’t done anything that would make me change my mind about marrying you.” He laughed and gave Yuri a nudge. “I know you’re kind of a dick. I guess I like it.” He was quiet a moment, then said, “Was it a mistake to wait to propose? I wanted a meaningful date, but…”

“No, it was perfect. I was being an impatient asshole. You set up a great memory for me, one that goes back to the time we first set eyes on each other. It’s romantic as fuck. It’s better than the rushed thing I thought I wanted.” He turned his head to kiss Beka’s chest. “I can’t wait to tell Mila. She’ll be so glad that I’ll finally shut up about whether or not you’re ever going to propose.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I never turned my phone back on.”

“Me either.”

They untangled their limbs and retrieved their phones from their crumpled clothes and waited impatiently for them to start up.

Mila had replied _omg tell me what happened_

Victor asked _did anything interesting happen in barcelona???_

Victor had sent a similar message to Beka.

They sat side by side, leaning against the headboard, their arms and legs touching.

“You deal with Victor." Yuri nudged Beka with his elbow. “I’m still kind of mad at him.”

Beka scoffed at this. “Don’t be mad at Victor. Victor loves you.” He typed with his thumbs a moment. “I’m texting my mom. I’ll text Victor next.”

“Is your mom gonna be happy?”

Beka scoffed at this also. “Baka, my family loves you.”

Yuri smiled. He loved them too. As for his own family, he would text Grandpa (who’d finally gotten a smartphone at the beginning of the year) and let him spread the news.

To Mila he sent _i'm gonna be a mfing husband. totally badass_ and attached a picture of the ring.

He reconsidered texting Victor, sending _did tour of city. nice to revisit. beka gave me ring. nbd_

They posed for an informal engagement photo: bare chests, messy sex hair and Yuri's ring hand touching Beka's smiling face, which Yuri posted to Instagram _#isaidyes #futurehusbands #beka #barcelona #11years #fuckyeahfiance_

Eventually they texted everyone they knew, everyone from their lives on and off the ice. The congratulations messages started arriving in flurries, and Yuri was touched by how many of Beka’s friends and family in Almaty sent him texts. He’d never been sure he was really liked as opposed to tolerated.

Grandpa sent Yuri a simple, affectionate congratulations, saying he was a good, sweet boy who deserved happiness, but sent Beka a long series of sentimental messages about how wonderful Beka was for Yuri, and how glad he was that his grandson had found such a worthy man, all of which he signed _Kolya_ exactly like an old person. Yuri had told Grandpa not to sign his text messages so many times, but Grandpa didn’t listen.

Beka said, “He _is_ an old person, Yura. It’s fine,” but Yuri found it embarrassing.

Beka dropped his phone screen-down on the bed. “Are you hungry?”

Yuri’s stomach was rumbling. “Weren’t we gonna eat dinner naked?”

Half an hour later, half-dressed Beka let in the room service waiter with his cart and tipped him with the cash in Yuri’s wallet. They sat very naked at the table in front of the window, curtains open, eating their steaks and watching the people walk past on the street far below.

“When do you want to get married?” Beka asked, nudging Yuri beneath the table with his foot.

Yuri hadn’t gotten that far yet, but he thought about it now. “Hmm. I guess it has to be after Worlds next year? April or something?” He chewed a bite of steak (slightly overdone) and said, “I don’t want to wait a long time, if that’s all right.”

Beka snickered. “You want to lock me down, yeah?”

That was absolutely true, but Yuri laughed it off.

Beka ate a bite, looking thoughtful. “Victor offered to plan the wedding for us.”

“Huh?”

“He’s really excited. He’s full of ideas.”

Yuri had been thinking along the lines of nice suits, a ceremony in the registration office and some sort of party. “What kind of ideas?”

Beka waved a hand vaguely. “Victor ideas. Probably better than our ideas.”

Yuri shrugged, conceding this. “We can talk to him about it, I guess.” Victor’s wedding to Katsudon had been emotional and beautiful, and the party had been fantastic, so if Victor could give them something similar, Yuri wouldn’t turn it down.

“Do you want to put on clothes after this?” Beka asked. “There’s an ice cream place a few minutes from here I want to check out.”

“Walking or riding?”

“Riding. The place I'm talking about has cannabis ice cream.”

Yuri recoiled, his face screwed up in distaste. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I want to taste it anyway.”

“Well if you want to do it, we should do it,” Yuri decided. “I’ll put on clothes.”

Half an hour later, while Beka brushed his teeth, Yuri browsed through a listing of restaurants and businesses in the vicinity of the hotel.

“Beka?”

“What?” Beka’s voice sounded strange, probably with a mouthful of toothpaste.

“There’s a Häagen-Dazs just down the block.”

Yuri heard Beka spit, and then he stuck his head out the bathroom door.

“No. I want to go to Belgious.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You really want that pot ice cream.”

“My drug use is getting out of control.”

Yuri snorted, amused. “It’s going to destroy our marriage.”

They left their room, brushing past the cart with their dirty plates they’d wheeled into the corridor, and took the elevator down to the garage. Yuri’s jeans felt very rough against his bitten thighs and he liked having a secret from everyone but Beka.

Twenty minutes later, they sat at a table on the homely cement square outside the ice cream shop eating their treats. Beka had cannabis and chocolate, Yuri had raspberry-balsamic and strawberry. Yuri had been entreated to try the cannabis flavor and found it tolerable but not worth eating a whole scoop. He questioned Beka’s motives in choosing the flavor, thinking it might be less about enjoyment and more about being a badass.

Three years ago Yuri wouldn’t have thought to question Beka’s motives about anything, wouldn’t have challenged him on any point, and had thought he was unassailable and perfect. He did still tend to think Beka’s opinions were the right ones, that Beka’s aims were noble, that Beka was close to perfect, but he asserted himself now in ways that wouldn’t have been possible at 18. The collar game was a prime example of that.

“Can I have another bite of yours?” Beka leaned over the table, spoon at the ready. “You can have more of mine.”

Yuri handed Beka his bowl and picked up Beka’s, spooning up a bite of chocolate.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Beka asked. “There’s a Gaudi tour I kind of want to do, but it starts early.”

Yuri still had a surly teenaged reaction to organized groups, learning experiences, and especially tourist activities, but Beka was able to enjoy things like that without it affecting his coolness in the least. Yuri had become accustomed to going along with Beka’s choices despite his misgivings and it always turned out to be fun, or at least okay.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds great.”

“All right. I’ll book it now.” Beka put down his spoon and poked at his phone. When he was done, he looked across the table at Yuri and smiled. “I know where we should go for a honeymoon.”

“Yeah? Where?” Yuri ran his spoon around the bottom of his bowl, trying to get every last melted drop. He hadn’t considered that they’d have a honeymoon!

“Paris. Neither one of us has ever really been as a tourist. There are some clubs I want to check out and we could go to all the museums.”

Yuri wrinkled up his nose, as if at a bad smell.

Beka laughed. “You’re such a philistine, but I know you actually do like art.”

Yuri didn’t know what a philistine was, but he got the gist.

“No, it’s just—” Yuri didn’t know how to explain it. He liked art when it was out in the world. He liked it less when he had to visit it in its hushed and guarded home. He liked art when it was on a t-shirt.

How about we go to the Louvre and the Pompidou, and as your reward I’ll take you to Disneyland?”

Yuri sat bolt upright, thrilled and unable to cancel the idiot smile that spread across his face. “Fuck yeah! I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Tigger ears, kotik.”

Yuri laughed. “You don’t have to convince me. Yeah, of course I’ll go to museums with you. I’d go anyway.”

“So it’s Paris,” Beka said happily. “I’m glad that’s decided.”

“I want to eat so much cheese…” Yuri was busy recalling other things Paris had to offer that might be worthwhile. The whole big category of food of course. Pastry. Wine. Probably at least one cat café. And there’d be shopping. They’d have to ask Victor and Katsudon for hotel and restaurant recommendations. Maybe they could get Victor to plan the wedding and honeymoon both.

Beka’s phone pinged and he smiled down at the screen. “It’s from the cat sitter.” He held it up for Yuri to see: a shot of all three cats standing over an empty food dish, their expectant faces turned up toward the camera.

“Tell her to say hi from us.”

Beka rolled his eyes. “The cats won’t understand that.”

“They might,” Yuri insisted. “Our cats are very smart.”

Beka laughed. "I'll tell her." He typed quickly and put his phone down. He collected their trash and made a neat pile. “Do you want to go out tonight? There’s a club I want to check out.”

Yuri wouldn’t need to be dressed up for that. “Sure. DJ or band?”

“DJ. We can’t stay out too late though because I just paid a lot of money for that Gaudi thing in the morning.”

“How much is a lot?”

“More than you’d want to spend,” Beka said with confidence. “I’ll just get rid of this trash and we can go.”

~o0o~

After they got back from the club, Beka fell right to sleep, drooling on Yuri’s chest, but Yuri lay awake awhile longer, admiring his ring in the sliver of light that came in between the curtains. Beka had said _You don’t have to wear it all the time_ , as if he was generously relieving Yuri from performing some unpleasant duty. Fuck that. Yuri had disdainfully called him a baka. He’d said _I’m gonna fucking well wear it as much as I want_ , and Beka had laughed and said _That’s exactly what you should do, kotik_.

Yuri was tired but fought sleep, not wanting this incredible day to come to an end. An embarrassingly superstitious part of him worried he’d wake up tomorrow to find this had all been a dream, so it seemed smart to enjoy it as long as possible.

He loved Beka so much. So. Fucking Much.

They were going to be married. They’d be _husbands_.

Beka was all Yuri wanted, his only relationship goal, and Yuri was looking forward to flaunting their connection by means of the ring, this solid and costly proof that Beka wanted him above anyone else.

Yuri recognized that there were other handsome men in the world, tons of them, but he was really only attracted to Beka, the sexiest man alive. It baffled Yuri that he wasn’t constantly having to fight off challengers, male, female and otherwise. However, should anyone dare make a serious move on Beka, Yuri would fight for him tooth and nail, vicious as fuck, no hesitation. Ripping earrings out of ears. Gouging eyes. Stomping balls into bloody paste.

He was aware there were people who stupidly believed Asian men weren’t sexy, but they’d obviously never seen a Kazakh guy. Besides being beautiful, the broad arcs of Beka’s cheekbones and the shape of his eyes hearkened back to his nomadic horse lord ancestors and all those badass motherfuckers who hunted with eagles, which was just fucking cool. What did Yuri’s ancestors do? Scratch in the dirt on farms? Be communists?

Yuri had a sort of half-formed horse lord fantasy where Beka swept him up onto the back of his horse and stole him away to fuck in a yurt. He didn’t really talk to Beka about it though, because it turned out Beka didn’t know how to ride a horse and was kind of scared of them. But a motorcycle was a modern horse, in a way. His boyfriend—no, _fiancé_ —was still a noble-as-fuck horse lord at heart.

They were each other’s favorite thing. Beka was a sexy, manly gentleman-badass who knew Yuri’s body like it was his own. Yuri was a snarky little blond nympho who could take a monster cock. There were other things they liked about each other, of course—sense of humor, intelligence, human decency, etc.—and they were friends, obviously, but sexually they were crazy-compatible and that made a lot of things go easier. Already, just as boyfriends these last three years, they’d yet to have a fight that couldn’t be at least partially resolved by fucking, and Yuri anticipated this would continue into married life.

Plisetsky-Altin. Altin-Plisetsky. Yuri thought he’d remain Plisetsky professionally but he’d want to share names legally. He was eager to be bonded to Beka in love and paperwork.

Yuri vaguely remembered a promise he’d made to himself that he’d do whatever needed to be done in life, but he’d always try to be someone Beka could love, and apparently he’d actually done that, so self-congratulations were in order. He had tried to be a good boyfriend and had obviously succeeded, so he felt optimistic he could be a good husband too. Or a good enough husband. At the very least, he could probably be a husband Beka could be happy with, keeping in mind that Beka liked everything about him, even the terrible things.

He was unbelievably lucky. He was getting everything he could want. Now all he needed for the rest of his life was the opportunity to stand on literal and figurative podiums with Beka, ideally with matching gold medals in husbandry. Husbanding. Being married.

They were a fucking team, stronger together, solid and stellar. He needed Beka, but he would remember that Beka needed him too. They were partners, a pair. They’d joked about competing as pair skaters for Kazakhstan, but maybe it wasn’t a joke. Maybe they should take it seriously. It was something to think about for sure. Yuri fucking loved doing the throws. Pair skating was the other discipline—besides sex—where his small stature gave him an advantage.

He had an idea about doing a pairs routine for their first dance as a married couple. He couldn’t believe he was thinking about something as corny as a first fucking dance, but just getting married was pretty fucking corny and he was definitely going to do it anyway. Somehow they’d figure out a way to make it badass.

He would let Victor help plan the wedding because he didn’t even know where to start, but he was going to insist that their colors be purple and leopard print. He was confident Beka would be cool with his choices—Beka’s favorite black and grey wouldn’t be very festive, and their wedding should definitely be a celebration, a total rager.

He had a sudden thought and wanted to wake Beka immediately but stayed as still as he could manage until the urge passed. But! But they needed to discuss whether they should get married in St. Petersburg or Almaty. St. Petersburg was a superior venue in many ways, but Beka had literally hundreds of relatives in Kazakhstan—aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, even third cousins, grandparents, step-grandparents, sister’s scouting troop, mom’s book club, dad’s professional network, current neighbors, neighbors from their old neighborhood, tutors, coaches, old rink mates…basically all of Almaty. It might make more sense to put a handful of Russians on a plane to Almaty than try to find satisfactory hotel rooms for dozens or even hundreds of Kazakhs in St. Petersburg.

That would be the first thing he asked Beka about in the morning. Well, first thing after he asked if he’d had good dreams.

“Yura?” Beka raised his head from Yuri’s chest. He sounded slightly annoyed, his voice a croak.

“What?” Yuri was startled by his voice. “Go back to sleep.”

“Why are you awake? You’re so restless.”

 _I’m planning my dream wedding_ was way too much of a sissy thing to admit. “I’m just excited about everything,” he said vaguely. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Beka laughed, his breath warm on Yuri’s ribs. “S’okay. Do you want me to help you get to sleep?”

Yuri's cock was already hard, and he already knew the answer to his question when he asked, “How are you gonna do that?”

Beka shifted to kneel between Yuri’s legs. “I’ll suck your dick.” He ran his hands up and down Yuri’s bruised thighs, satisfyingly tender to the touch, and bent to press kisses low on his belly.

Yuri pretended to think about this. “That might work.” He wriggled side to side, spreading his legs wider apart.

“If it doesn’t, I’ll fuck you into submission.”

Yuri’s cock tingled, and he promised himself he’d hold out for the fucking no matter how good the blow job was. “What, you’ll fuck me and I’ll just give in?”

“It’s happened before,” Beka pointed out. “You know, you’re actually sounding like a difficult case already.”

“Difficult?”

“Argumentative little bitch.”

“Hardly argumentative,” Yuri insisted.

“See? You did it again. Maybe I’ll just cut straight to the fucking.” Beka reached out for the lube on the nightstand.

Yuri drew his knees up. “If this is supposed to be a punishment, joke’s on you.”

“So mouthy, kotik,” Beka remarked, lining up his slick cockhead with Yuri’s hole. “No more of that. All I want to hear out of you going forward is moaning. Maybe my name.” He tilted his hips and began to push inside Yuri’s body.

Yuri groaned, eyes fluttering shut. “Ayu. Beka.”

“Yeah,” Beka said approvingly. “Like that.” He was deep in Yuri’s body, his hips pressed against Yuri’s ass.

Yuri’s heart felt flooded, hot and sodden. “I love you.”

Beka laughed. “That wasn’t on the list, but I’ll allow it.” He bent over Yuri for a kiss and began to move.

Beka held him close as they fucked and whispered to him, promises and encouragements and compliments that made him feel so loved.

Yuri felt like he might cry again, and really hoped he wouldn’t. He’d cried at Parc Güell because he’d been overwhelmed. The coolest person he’d ever known thought he was cool too. The person who made him feel the most secure, the most relaxed, the most loved, felt that way about him too. The only person Yuri had ever wanted also wanted Yuri for his own. Of course he’d been overwhelmed.

Beka said, “Ah, kotik, I hope these are happy tears,” and kissed them from his face.

“Baka, of course they’re happy,” Yuri snapped. “If you tell anyone how much I cried today, I won’t marry you.” No one but Beka could ever know how weak he was for romantic sex, for tenderness. His image was edgy fucking, collars and biting; lovemaking was not his brand, nor were sentimental tears.

“It’s our secret,” Beka promised. “I’ll keep all your secrets.” He kissed Yuri’s nose and the wet corners of his eyes. “Should I keep going or not?”

“Finish what you started!” Yuri was gruff, embarrassed by his emotions.

Beka guessed correctly that the time for tenderness was over. He knelt up and pulled Yuri by the hips, settling him more firmly onto his cock.

“You’re really demanding, you spoiled little pussy.” He meant cat, not vagina. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

In fact he was Beka’s fantasy man, a sexy blond twink Beka could skate with, share with, and fuck. That’s who he was. Yuri said nothing, but squeezed Beka’s cock with his tight muscles, just as a reminder.

Beka got the message. “Sure, you feel the best to me, but it goes both ways.”

 _Maybe it wouldn’t if I tried someone else._ Yuri didn’t say it, didn’t mean it, wasn’t going to be that sassy (or assy) today, because it wasn’t true, or if it was true, he didn’t want to know. If there was sex better than what he had with Beka, it would ruin his life. He’d be no good for anything else. His current situation was nearly that dire. Skating and fucking, those were his two modes.

“So you can’t deny it,” Beka said smugly, his hips slamming into Yuri’s ass.

Yuri ignored his challenge. What Beka was doing felt fucking incredible, raunchy raw pleasure spiking out from deep at the root of Yuri’s cock like lightning, bright and jagged. Yuri wasn’t denying anything.

They were just getting into the wordless fierce groove of their shared rhythm when Yuri had a sudden shocking thought: _I’m being fucked by my **husband**!_ and the glorious truth of it made him come almost immediately, shouting loud enough to wake their neighbors and surprising Beka, who laughed as he hammered on to his own noisy conclusion.

They lay on their sides, nose to nose. Yuri’s whole body was humming. He loved Beka with every cell in his body; it was kind of intense.

“So what was that? It seems like you skipped a bunch of steps.” Beka was grinning though, and obviously didn’t mind.

“I dunno. You just fucked me exactly right, ayu. Blame it on your magic cock.”

_Husband!_

Beka scoffed at the idea of a magic cock, but Yuri could tell he was pleased.

After they’d cuddled a few minutes, Beka got up and got a washcloth and wiped the come off of Yuri’s ass for him, and if that wasn’t devotion, Yuri didn’t know what was.

“C’mere,” Beka said, beckoning him closer. “Let me hold you.”

Yuri pressed himself to Beka’s side, his head on Beka’s shoulder, Beka’s arm around his back.

“Do you think you can sleep now?” Beka asked. “I’ll help you again if I have to.”

Yuri laughed. “So selfless.”

Beka laughed too. “I’d do anything for you.”

“I know you would. You’re gonna be a great husband.”

 _Husband!_ He was going to say it every chance he got.

“I’ll try my hardest. Thank you for saying yes.”

“Baka, how could you think I wouldn’t?”

Beka shrugged. “It’s scary asking that question. All kinds of stuff goes through your head.”

Probably similar to the kinds of stuff that went through your head when you were waiting to be asked.

“I’m glad you were brave. I really wanted you to ask.”

“You could have asked me, you know.” Beka chuckled, seeming to find this funny.

Yuri blinked, surprised. Oh. He could have. At any time.

Now he felt kind of stupid.

Beka continued, squeezing him close. “I’m glad you didn’t though. I wanted to ask you.”

Yuri considered what his own proposal might have been like. If he’d planned it himself, it would likely have been a heavy metal trainwreck. If he’d gotten Victor’s help, it might have turned out all right, but he probably wouldn’t have thought to ask.

Yuri was tired now and settled in at Beka’s side, as close as possible. They’d be getting up in a few hours to do Beka’s art thing, or maybe it was an architecture thing, and he would fucking well enjoy it, because it was the least he could do for Beka, who did everything Yuri wanted or needed.

Over the past three years, Yuri had come to realize that being a good boyfriend meant making a lot of deliberate decisions to appreciate things that he maybe didn’t care about personally, but were important to Beka. The intricacies of motorcycle maintenance. The plots of sci-fi novels. Getting the most out of DJ software. And now, tourist stuff. History, or art, or whatever he was in for.

He’d do anything for Beka.

He was going to be a fucking amazing husband.

 


End file.
